


keep the streets empty for me

by imaginedecember



Series: electric dreams [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:03:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedecember/pseuds/imaginedecember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything has a shadow. For Ryan, it was the angel of the death. Now after the angel leaves the body he had taken over, Ryan will have to figure out if he’s going to help the boy the angel left behind or leave the boy in the shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. vacancy

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings/Explanation of Rating: This is a GTA alternate universe fic, meaning that it will take part in Los Santos and that the six Achievement Hunters are/will be in a crew together. They do kill people and take part in missions, heists and the like but all of it is mentioned offhandedly. Nothing will be explicitly detailed or graphic. If it does turn graphic or detailed, I will add warnings for the future.
> 
> Notes: The title of this fic is from the song 'Keep the Streets Empty for Me' by Fever Ray. Also, this may have four chapters. It all depends on how much I continue to write for it and how I break it up.
> 
> Dedication: This is also completely inspired by fullunadulteratedart on tumblr, also known as ThisShallNeverBeMentioned on ao3. All of her beyond gorgeous raywood drawings and Ryan drawings are what inspired this. Much love to you, sweetheart, and thank you for everything you give us.

The morning was his fire. It kept him warm. When the moon switched to a rising sun, he felt his soul begin to swell. His dark gray mask blended with the shadows and when the sun kissed the plastic, it seemed to glint. Gorgeous. And the scars and the crimson stain of his skin seemed to pulse. His fingers were stiff but one lick of a sunbeam and they relaxed. His knuckles cracked and his shoulders rolled back. His muscles seemed to soothe themselves of their worries with a single caress of the sweet rising sun. 

One would think that he would have preferred the darkness but the morning was for repent. It was for redemption. 

_Forgive me for what I have down under the moon’s watchful gaze._

_Forgive me for what I have done to the people of this city in the cover of their shadows._

It was weird for Ryan but he had not found one person who was worthy enough to have their hands crossed over their chests. Some didn’t deserve an extra thought. 

Until he met Ray Narvaez Jr. 

He was sunshine. 

He had never felt something so warm. 

No, not even the sun could compare. 

_Forgive me, sun, for I have found something that could rival your intensity, your warm light, your tranquility._

_I have found an angel._

Ryan had first met Ray through his father. His father was doing business, the kind that gave the meaning of the term a less than pure definition. He had said to protect his son. He had taught his son many things but he wasn’t sure if the kid ever listened. It was allowed, for a while at least. They had lost their mother. It was a blaze, he had said. A blaze. To Ryan, that could mean various things. 

The moon was coming swift now and Ray’s father was gone and Ray was not safe. He had to get Ray. Slip into the house through an open back window (he was sure now that Ray had never listened to his father’s advice). Ascend the stairs. Twist the knob. 

Ray was too busy sniping at people on the television screen to pop a headphone off and wonder who was at his door or if there was anyone else there with him at all. It could have gotten him killed. Ryan had half a mind to take the boy out. But he was here to protect the boy. Even though he knew he wasn’t made for it.

See, the only person Ryan knew was himself.

And he even barely knew that. 

He was not built to safeguard people like a cop taking a wanted man to a safe house. He couldn’t put his body on the line. 

He had done that once and failed. 

All he wanted now was to be alone. In the silence. His long awaited home. 

But he had one of the bosses of Los Santos breathing down his neck and his son’s life on his hands. If he faltered one single step or didn’t shine a caring, albeit fake, smile and save the boy then he would be captured. 

And Ryan didn’t take too kindly to cops. His track record said that pretty clearly. But the bosses of Los Santos knew his mask, knew how to lure him in with weapons, maybe a car or something equally as enticing for a man whose blood ran cold and whose hands never shook at the sight of death. They knew how to play. And Ryan, maybe, stupidly had fallen for their plan but they had connections to the cops, to everybody. He’d have to let them feel power over him before striking them where they stood. But he could dream of that day later.

Right now he had a boy to save before the enemies came up here and killed him with one bullet. This time, the boy wouldn’t get the snipe kill. 

“If you’re here to kill me, better do it quick before I win this game and crush the hopes of every player.”

Ray’s voice was sure. 

It didn’t waver.

And for once Ryan stumbled backwards. It was a quick step but Ray heard his black shoes drag across the hardwood. 

Ray’s smirk was evident in the flash of his final kill.

“Yeah, I opened the downstairs window just for you. I may not know anything about the mobs and shit or even Los Santos but I know when my dad is gunning to run.” He tilted his head to the side, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and eyes categorizing his kill to death ratio. Perfection. He allowed himself to relax then, sighing happily underneath his breath before returning himself to the conversation at hand and the unknown man behind him. “He said something about a savior. Figured some dude would come up and take me to some stupid safe point. But I, uh, didn’t expect you.”

Ray finally turned his head then, his eyes narrowing and taking in every movement that Ryan made. Ryan barely even breathed as he flexed his fingers. In the darkness, they stiffened and he wondered what kind of kid Ray was to be so damn cunning.

“I didn’t expect you either.”

Ryan’s voice was rough and Ray wouldn’t lie that shivers cascaded down his spine. It was a strange tactic to have a voice like that. It could send anyone to their knees. 

“We better get going, then?” Ray coaxed.

Nodding, Ryan refrained from grabbing the boy. He figured that the kid had other tricks up his sleeve and he didn’t want to know what the kid was capable of. The kid would look gorgeous behind a sniper rifle. He’d have to show him his collection.

“People only know my attire. And that’s just the underground of Los Santos. We’ll be safe in my apartment.”

Pausing in the hallway, Ryan glanced at the door at the end of the hall. Ray nodded, confirming Ryan’s suspicions and he headed for the door. Opening it slowly, he slipped inside and ran up the stairs leading to the roof. Ray followed him, his steps quiet and his breath not even echoing in the silence. 

“Your apartment? Shouldn’t I get your name first?” Ray joked as soon as they reached the open air of the roof. He smiled as he watched the mask that the stranger wore lift slightly. A smile. He wondered if this man grinned anymore. He wondered if he even knew how to laugh in happiness and not in crazed vengeance. 

“For you, it’s Haywood,” Ryan spoke curtly as he surveyed the roof. There were no helicopter pads but there was a ladder leading to the back alley. A shady place to go but he hoped that it would lead them somewhere and not straight into death (irony was cruel). 

Walking over to the rusted metal ladder, he began his ascent down. 

“Stay up there but where I can watch you,” he commanded quietly. The kid crossed his arms across his chest and backed enough away from the edge so that he was not visible over the lip of the roof. Ryan wanted to kick the ladder off its creaking rungs and leave the kid up there to die on his own. But he had beautiful weapons waiting for him when the sun rose again. That was enough to get him moving. 

Jumping down from the ladder, he peered down the alley. A dead end to the left. To the right, a turn to the mouth of a bigger alley that led to the street. No one. Not even a dumpster or a box. 

Rattling startled him. He gripped the pistol in his pocket but Ray’s voice came through. Whipping around towards the ladder, he frowned when he saw the boy was descending it. 

“Last name basis? Are we in high school?” 

“Listen, kid-,” Ryan tried but Ray was relenting. 

“Now, we’re in middle school?” When the boy jumped down in front of him, Ryan froze for just a few seconds but it was enough for Ray to detect it. The kid practically swelled with pride as he visibly watched Ryan’s walls crumble. It seemed that the mask wasn’t working as a barrier. It wasn’t scary to the kid. His voice didn’t do anything. It didn’t tell him to stay with a single roughed out word. The kid was unfazed by him. It was something that Ryan had never witnessed. And certainly not up close like this. 

“Ryan.” 

Each syllable and well-crafted vowel charged the air. 

Ray chuckled, just quiet enough to disappear into the silence but high enough pitched for Ryan to catch it. He hovered over the boy, just tall enough to back him into the rungs of the ladder with his towering stance. A power play. However, despite Ray’s back steps, he did not falter. His eyes remained clear, determined. His shoulders were taught, the muscles clenching. 

“I thought they called you James.” A single eyebrow raise. “Am I too special for that, Ryan?” The way his mouth curved around his name left Ryan in a frizzled state. Hands shoved into Ray’s shoulders, pinning him painfully against the ladder. Bold move. Large fingers scarred by fire wrapped around his throat, pressing into the younger boy’s adams apple. It wasn’t harsh enough to reduce airflow so Ray easily flipped the cards over and spoke, “You can’t kill me, Ryan. There’d be no satisfaction in killing someone whose already dead.” It was soul bearing and it seared the air. A tight-lipped confession. The heart could barely withstand confining it. 

Ryan’s grip on the boy’s neck slackened. An emotional pause. Like good friends who had been together forever but had never once stopped to ask their friends who they were and what had happened to them before their meeting. And when everything finally clashed, silence was the only answer. 

Ryan saw this as a failure for Ray. This way, he could pinpoint his weaknesses and exploit them. But there was no good in dealing a hand against death himself. 

Because Ryan was known as James on the streets.

And Ray, sweet innocent Ray, was the vessel for the angel of death.

“It’s weird. I never thought you’d be the boss’ son.” Ryan had felt the angel's presence following him around lately. He could hear the shadows whistle as they shuddered and bent. It was strange to see the angel who took away his victims to their proper places take form into a boy no older than seventeen. Young. Innocent. But his eyes told such a different story.

“Me neither. But reincarnation is an odd thing.” A sweet smile, like the sun. How a man born in cold could produce such warmth was beyond Ryan. He’d thought the kid would be like the moon. Maybe he was both. But he was certainly bathed in the beams of the sun. He wondered what the boy would be like without the angel of death as his keeper.

“It is indeed.” Ryan backed away from the boy at that moment. Spinning on his heel, he turned to the right. "Now that pleasantries are exchanged, let’s go to my apartment.”

“Such big words, Ryan,” Ray teased as he happily followed behind the man. They gave no care in their footsteps and their eyes did not watch their backs or anywhere around them. Ryan had little care in the world, not when the angel death was on his heels. 

The two of them walked downtown Los Santos, smiling at the familiarity of sirens and gunshots. Like home. When they got to Ryan’s apartment building, Ray curled his fingers around Ryan’s wrist and the older man tried not to jump at the frigid temperature of his skin. 

“Do you have games at your place?” Ray questioned softly. His breath fanned across Ryan’s jacket and even though the skin was clothed, the cells freckled at the feeling. 

“Yeah, all kinds. You can pick whatever you like when we get up.” 

Now, this was the tricky part. 

Ryan knew he couldn’t hide from death. Death had seen him in his finest and at his worst. What was there to cover? 

Unlatching Ray’s fingers from his wrist, he stepped forward just a bit. Taking the bottom of the mask in between his thumb and forefinger, he lifted it from his face and tucked the mask into a pocket on the inside of his leather jacket. 

Turning around, he tried to find a smile but he forgot what the word even meant. Ray seemed to grin for him. He knew the pain of smiles. He knew all kinds of pain. 

Shaking his head, he stepped towards Ryan and clasped his cheeks with the palms of his hands. Black, white and red face paint smeared against his pale skin. He felt tainted by Ryan, by the person underneath James the masked killer. Using the edge of his jacket, he wiped the rest of the face paint from Ryan’s cheek and forehead. He paused over Ryan’s eyes, waiting until they fluttered shut before wiping the paint off. 

“There. Wouldn’t wanna look the part while walking into your apartment at one in the morning.” 

“Nah, that wouldn’t be good,” Ryan agreed as he frowned at the paint now stuck to Ray’s jacket. His fingernails plucked at the specks of paint, unsticking them from the frayed stitches and rubbing the paint between the pads of his fingers. The both of them looked like complete messes but it would have to do until Ryan could shower and Ray could rid himself of his jacket. 

Together, they entered the apartment building and into the elevator. The glare of the lights nor the sound of the door did anything to alarm the person behind the front desk of their presence. He was too busy sleeping off the night. Ray chuckled at his ignorance. 

“People are so afraid of me but I’m always around,” he commented as they waited for the elevator. When the doors dinged open, they entered the lift. 

Jamming a thumb into the button for floor eleven, Ryan answered, “They’re such fools.”

“Hm, humans are the worst.” 

And it was odd how Ray had so easily considered Ryan non-human. And Ryan surely acted like it. He reached a certain zone when he was killing. Ray felt his sentiments. 

The bad part about reincarnation was that he was put into a human body with a human soul and memories. The nightmares of his vessel were treacherous and somber. They were scars, like the wounds on Ryan’s body. To combat it, Ray found a sniper rifle and video games to be a good enough zone to use to his full extent. 

He didn’t need the boy’s father’s hushed whispers and code words for him to tell him when evil was coming. It was the mention of James, of that masked man on the streets that had caught his attention. If it was not for that, he would have sniped the men going after the boy's father before they could even blink. 

And it was good, too, since the human soul he now carried seemed to glow when he did these things. It felt oddly comforting to know that the human that he had taken, for once, was happy.

“How long are you in this body?” Ryan questioned as he watched the floor numbers rise.

Ray tilted his head to the side, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth. Blowing out a breath, he shook his head.

“Not long at all.” His frown was evident. “I was here when the boy lost his mom and I’ll be here until he’s safe.” Dark brown eyes turned to Ryan. The rest of his sentence was in his gaze and Ryan felt honored and befuddled as to why he, of all people, was considered safe.

“Me?” he asked out loud.

Ray chuckled, choppy and sincere. 

“Yes, you, Ryan. Believe it or not, the boy needs guidance.” A pause. “A guidance towards a life not like his father’s and not like your own. Or at least a little better than that.”

Ryan’s gaze hardened. When the elevator doors opened, he stepped out into the hallway. Ray followed behind him but slower this time. He could sense that his words had bit Ryan. In what way, though, was beyond him. 

Ryan’s mind was running at top speed. How in the fuck was he going to help the boy who’d be void of the angel of death? He wasn’t meant to protect. He wasn’t built for that. 

Gritting his teeth, he slid his keycard through its slot. When the light turned green, he opened the door with the tip of his shoe. Once Ray entered the apartment, he shut and locked the door. Five locks. Sensor on. Alarms on. Check. Done. 

“How can I do that when I kill? Can’t keep a secret like that,” Ryan finally said as he followed Ray into the living room. The boy sat down on the sectional couch, throwing his head back and scrubbing at the scruff of his beard. 

“Look, I got an apartment for him. When I say, take him there. He’ll wake up there and I’ll make sure that it’s normal for him, that he won’t question a thing. He won’t know who you are but…,” Ray trailed off. He watched as Ryan moved to stand in front of the wide expanse of floor to ceiling glass windows. He watched his blue eyes, like ice, freeze the light of the moon and the shadows of the city below. “He’ll find you when he befriends a kid from the crew that you’re gonna join.”

Crew.

Family. 

“Is Ray’s family dead?”

“They will be.”

A common event between them. 

“I can’t fail again.”

Ray bowed his head.

“I was there. Didn’t look like that from my point of view.”

But shame was a fickle thing. It stuck. It stung. It grew heads, limbs and thoughts of its own. It was sanity. It was insanity. And it had become like a best friend to Ryan. But unlike the shadows and the morning sun, he despised their presence. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t cold. It was gray. 

Ray finally stood.

“I have to go. I’ll be back but remember what I said.” He smiled then, cockily and prideful. “And remember that the angel of death is always right.” A single wink and the angel was gone, dissolved into nothing but particles of air. 

Ryan really hoped that, for once, the angel of death would be wrong.


	2. united

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan finally meets the crew that the angel had mentioned to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if I tend to stray from the raywood and Ryan/Ray background stories. The crew is far too alluring for me to not talk about them individually and as a group.

Call Ryan whatever you wanted but when he saw a light flicker twice, he immediately thought of trouble. His mother had whispered it to him when he was young, had told him once a week.

_Two flickers, James. Two._

A flashlight beam flickered twice before the light settled. The hand that held it shook just a bit. Voices. Shoes against pavement, stepping over cracks and digging into roots and crunching leaves. He wondered how many there were. 

The alley that he was holed up in was not a well-worn alley. The pavement wasn’t even cracked, only puddled from recent rain and rust from the fire escapes nailed to the buildings that he was hiding between. In short, no one trespassed down it unless they had a death warrant. 

But something about that click or stutter of the flashlight’s battery kept him captivated. It wasn’t some ignorant citizen wondering into the darkness with open arms, desire wet on their salivating lips and eyes as wide as their gaping souls. Empty. 

No, there was something warm behind the footsteps, the voices, the slow pulse of their heartbeats. Even the shadows flickered for them. Like an old friend. It was how they greeted him. He wondered if the angel of death was among them, dancing in their depths and drinking in their darkness. 

He wanted to scream out to the people who needed help. He wanted to lend a hand. Protect. But he was only sworn to protect three people. One wasn’t in the picture yet. And the other two were dead (he could still see them, hear them, feel his hands stain with the remains of their souls).

“Are you sure he’s down here?”

The voices were prominent now. Almost too stark in the silence. They jolted Ryan from his stupor and his eyes adjusted to the four figures looming around the entrance to the alley from the street. The one carrying the flashlight stepped forward. 

Two clicks. 

Ryan, in his crazed stupor to gain something from his childhood that he had lost by his own hands, stepped from the comfort of the angel’s embrace. He knew the angel was with him now. He was whispering to him. Bitter wind kissed his hands, soothing the fire that seemed to pulse beneath the calloused skin. 

It’s okay.

“Well, if it isn’t the masked man himself. Good job, Michael.” The one who had originally spoke clasped a hand over the shoulder of the one holding the flashlight. The flashlight jostled just a bit, sending the beam straight over Ryan’s form.

None of them even faltered when Ryan’s grayed mask and unwavering stance greeted them. 

“Heard you ran these parts. Wanted to see the man for ourselves.” The same man continued to talk for the group and Ryan figured he was the leader. A bearded man, the one standing closest to the leader, would have been second in command for sure. His relaxed stance didn’t scream it but Ryan could see his big hands talking enough for him when the leader couldn’t. 

“Well, I’m here.” Ryan swung his arms around in circles for a few seconds before dropping them at his sides. Shrugging, he figured he had nothing left to loose and stepped closer to the group. The one holding the flashlight swung it as if it were a weapon before clicking it off and pocketing it. 

“Do you know who we are? Why we want you?” the leader spoke again. Ryan could only figure that it was the angel’s doing, that this was the coveted crew that he had spoken about before they parted ways. And if not, Ryan rather be killed by people from the streets and not a cop or a fucking mob boss. Shittiest way to go, honestly. 

“I can only guess.” Ryan tilted his head to the side as he mulled it over for a bit longer. “I mean we’re all murderers. I’m figuring you guys are rounding up a crew.”

The leader seemed to beam at those words and he had never seen a man glow over one measly word with a strange definition that Ryan wasn’t even sure of completely. 

“Geoff, we get it. You want a goddamn litter or some creepy shit. Now, are we gonna take the guy in or not?” The kid with the flashlight was spitting quick fire now. Blunt. Forward. Ryan could get behind the brutal way the kid showed his presence. He wondered how the kid did it when he killed. Probably something mesmerizing, loud and known. A blaze.

“My dearest, Michael.” The leader, Geoff, ruffled the boy’s curly hair, laughing much too loudly for the dead of night at the boy’s swatting hands and frown. “Yes, crew. That’s what we want you for. Care to join?” Back to leveling his gaze on the masked figure, the leader smiled much too reassuringly. 

“I’m all for it. And if I get killed, so be it. Not like I care.” Shaking his head, though, Ryan continued, “But I need to get the run down on you guys first. Make sure you’re legit.”

“Run a mission with us, then. Get to know your part so to speak,” Michael suggested. Geoff seemed to get even happier with this idea. Clapping his hands together, he smiled a proud, fatherly smile at the kid.

“This is why we keep you around, Michael. Does that sound good to you, James?”

And when that name was uttered, Ryan felt like he needed a flashlight for himself. Two clicks. 

“It does.”

The four men hesitated just a bit before the bearded man spoke. 

“Why don’t you come with us tonight? Get started a bit early.” The leader was weary. His gaze searched the eyes of the giant hunk of a man for a few seconds before he turned to the other two. The one who had not spoken nor seemed to have inhaled a single molecule of air had a hardened expression that rivaled the mask that Ryan loved to wear. It seemed impossible to see a damn thing. No cracks. But Geoff seemed to be well versed in the mannerisms of his crew. It felt too much like he was intruding on a family. 

He had already killed one. He didn’t want to ruin another one. 

“Look,-.”

“No, that’s actually interesting. Interesting and important. I like the way you think, Jack. Even better than Michael-.”

“Hey!”

“But.”

And it seemed with that one contraction that Geoff seemed to slip into a demeanor that would go so prettily with Ryan when he was killing. The glint of a blade. The press of a boot against a skull. Everything about him seemed to crack and ooze. Like a man shedding his human skin. 

“If you touch any of my boys, Los Santos will see you strung up on its sign.”

Ryan had never heard of Geoff until then but if he had, he would have left town at a single utterance of his name. He smiled underneath the mask. Geoff was exactly the type of person that Ryan would love to get to know. 

“A promise from a killer isn’t much but I promise not to do anything.” Geoff seemed to have heard some sincerity in Ryan’s voice. A change in the tone or pitch. He shook off the intensity of the threat and returned to his smiling, down to earth, sleepy self. The others smiled with him, looks of appreciation dotting their faces. They had a true leader there. And once, Ryan had that same look given to him. Until he ripped it all away.

_You can’t do that to them. You can’t do that to Ray._

“Come with us then. It’ll be a bit of a drive but I’m sure you can handle it.” The four of them turned simultaneously from the alley, fitting together nicely as they walked to the black, old style car that they had parked out front. 

Ryan easily settled in back behind the driver’s seat. Michael and the other one whose name he had yet to hear sat beside him. Jack took the wheel and Geoff sat in the passenger’s seat.

“James, this is Jack, Michael and Gavin,” Geoff introduced. Ryan nodded as Geoff pointed each of them out. Beyond that, no one else spoke and Ryan did not really want to break it. The ride remained silent as the night. The drive to the apartment, though, was short and Ryan was not surprised to find that they were stopped outside of a lavish apartment building. Only the men on the streets and who had dealt in business had money. 

As the others piled out of the car, Ryan stayed behind with Geoff. The two of them allowed the others to run around ahead of them. Michael was slapping the button for the elevator impatiently while Jack was laughing and shaking his head at his expense. Gavin remained quiet, even as the elevator doors opened and he walked first into the lift. He didn’t think Gavin would be of the quiet type. But like all humans, everybody had their reasons. 

“You old men gonna hurry and get in?” Michael spoke as Jack moved to hold open the elevator doors. Geoff rolled his eyes as he slipped past Jack. Ryan entered last. He was almost ready to apologize before Geoff beat him to it.

“Sometimes you gotta take life slow, Michael.”

“You sound like Gavin. ‘Oh, Michael, you were born at a leisurely pace!’” The British accent was crude but it left the others laughing. Pouting, Gavin whined at the boy. Michael ruffled his hair, smiling when the other whined more and reached to fix it. Their group dynamic was palpable and in the small space, Ryan felt like he was suffocating in it. 

Seemingly far too soon, the elevator doors dinged open as they reached floor eleven. All of them piled out, wandering behind Geoff until he stopped at the last door on the left. Sliding his keycard though its slider, he waited until it turned green before kicking the door open. Holding it open with a single hand, he allowed the others to slip inside before shutting it and locking it. 

They lingered around the living room, the atmosphere suddenly tense. Like the final step to jumping off a cliff edge. 

“So, James, is it?” Geoff’s no bullshit start to the conversation and need for clarification did not rattle Ryan. He figured the man would ask about it eventually. Killers almost always had a name, even if it was what the public or the cops gave them. They always had an alternate name, one that served as a mask severing them from reality. 

“Ryan, actually.” Forwardness seemed to be appropriate with the group, even preferred. They seemed to appreciate the honesty. Trust wasn’t found easy on the streets. And a crew had to be built from its rare beauty. 

“Good, glad.” Geoff smiled, soft and kind. Ryan peered between the others, noting similar expressions. 

“Well, I’m all for late night pussy talks over emotional back stories but I’m beat,” Michael spoke. He hightailed it from the living room before Geoff could even blink. Backing away from the room with his hands up, Gavin turned tail and ran after the boy. Neither of them seemed to be very adult like, at least in the terms of introductions. 

“They’re such kids,” Geoff grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest. The weariness of his face screamed of how true it was. Jack wrapped a strong arm around his shoulders, pulling him in and rubbing at his shoulders, easing the tense muscle and strain.

“Better them being here then out there, Geoff,” Jack whispered. It was low and searing, something that Ryan felt like he was intruding on. He turned his head, instead, to the rest of the living room. 

None of the men seemed to be much enthusiasts of color. They kept it strictly neutral and monochrome with varying shades of white, brown, gray and, sometimes, black. The only pops of color were the video games sprawled across the floor, the entertainment center which was just two coffee tables shoved together with two televisions per table, four Xbox 360’s in front of them, the shelves lining the wall across from the windows and the hoodies that were thrown carelessly everywhere. 

He watched as Geoff bent down to pick up a red hoodie from the floor, shaking his head as he read the ‘M’ imprinted on the tag. Jack grabbed the jacket from his fingers, throwing it over his shoulder and heading to the hallway.

“Beat him with it. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into him,” Geoff called. Jack’s chuckle was the only indication that he had heard him before a door creaked open and clicked shut. 

Geoff then turned his steady gaze on Ryan. 

“You know you can back out any time. I wish I had that option from the get go but…” And Geoff trailed off, his fingers trembling just a bit as his heart seemed to swell. “Eh, they’re my own now, you know? And I want you to be a part of that.”

Ryan wanted to ask why it was him. It was like he was back in the elevator with the angel, repeating over and over again ‘why’. 

Shaking his head, Geoff stood and sat down on the gray sectional couch. It seemed to sink with his weight as he leaned back and relaxed. Resting his right arm on the back of the couch, he beckoned Ryan forward with a single flick of his left wrist. In that moment, Ryan felt like he was approaching a king on his thrown. And this was Geoff’s domain, after all. 

With unsteady footsteps, he walked towards Geoff and stopped in front of him when the older male put a hand out. Carding his fingers through his beard, Geoff studied the younger male for a few seconds before reaching forward. Ryan wanted to stumble backwards and away but Geoff was quick. He had lifted the mask up and over, throwing it to the side like the hoodies and the games. Just another part of the room. It didn’t even clatter against the hardwood, catching the edge of the living room carpet and the pile of hoodies instead. 

“Face paint too? Honest to god. Wash that shit off in the sink. I can’t fucking make sure if you’re an actual human if you look like you’re gonna shank me dead,” Geoff ordered. His demand was ruthless and Ryan, with his head bowed, headed towards the stark white kitchen with its marble countertops and fancy appliances. 

He felt like he was in a completely different universe. Even when his family was alive, he was the big brother and he stood next in line to his father. He had fucked that up completely but he was still used to the feeling of being looked up to rather than down to. It was a big pet peeve of his. And he loathed it even more when the shit stains of Los Santos talked down to him. It made killing them worth it, though. 

His jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth. Hovering over the sink, he decided that he would have to go with it. By age, Geoff was older. By experience, Geoff had him beat into the ground. And the angel knew best. 

_Every human desires to belong, Ryan._

And it was true. It was how terrorists won over its followers. _Come with me. You’ll belong to a family_. But Geoff and his crew were not terrorists, not by a long shot. No, they were all one in the same and floating in the same boat and drowning in the same sea. They weren’t gonna persuade him to do shit he didn’t want to do. They weren’t capable of even thinking of ending him. They both needed somebody else to fit into the puzzle, whether they wanted to admit it or even wanted it. 

_Two clicks is trouble, Ryan. Six is contentment._

Stomping those thoughts down hard, he grabbed a paper towel from the rack that it was hung on. Turning the sink on, he ran the edge of it through the water and carefully and methodically wiped the paint from his face. It felt like removing a sticker as some of it still clung in little pieces to the skin. Black, white, red. Monochrome with a pop of color. It was eerie how well everything clicked. He could almost hear the gears turning, sweet like wind chimes or church bells. 

Sighing, he threw the stained paper towel into the sink. He didn’t know where the trash can was and he certainly didn’t wanna rummage through Geoff’s kitchen looking for one. He’d take care of it when he didn’t have Geoff’s gaze burning holes into the back of his leather jacket. 

Plucking the remaining clumps from his skin, he washed the remains with the water and turned the sink off. Grabbing another paper towel, he washed his hands off and threw it into the sink next to the other one. Turning around, Ryan gasped as Geoff advanced on him. 

Cold, tattooed hands clasped his cheeks, pinching at the skin and turning his head this way and that. It jostled his brain and he could feel a headache coming on fast as the room spun.

“There. Beautiful.” Hands patted his cheeks once before letting go. Shoving them into his pants pocket, Geoff nodded to himself. “You’ll fit in perfectly. Now, do you game or not? Because if you don’t, I’m afraid your time here will be awfully dreadful.”

Geoff didn’t even wait for him to answer as he practically danced back to the living room. Ryan was left against the countertop, stunned. For the first time in his life, he wanted to kill someone and break the chain he had going. Kill every few months. Don’t do it on the same day and month. But he wanted a sense of normalcy back. His eyes tracked the front door. He wondered if he could escape now. Sink into the shadows. Wait for morning to come. Bathe this nightmare away with the sun. 

“I kill people, Geoff.”

The older male turned his head, resting his chin on the back of the couch. He raised a single eyebrow at him in confusion.

“We all do?”

“No, I-.”

_Ryan, you didn’t do it. I was there, remember? Look at it through my eyes. They never lie._

“Ryan, this is a weird time for a late night identity crisis.”

“I can’t protect any of you. Whatever reason you see me as important isn’t right.” Ryan tried to get his words perfect but they were stuck. Memories played so fast that the reel was spinning. His tongue flickered in his mouth. It tried desperately to form words but his voice was scrapping as if hands were pressing against his wind pipe. 

“Hey, Ryan, you need to calm down before you fucking break yourself.” Geoff was walking towards him, grabbing for his arm and dragging him down until he was lying on the kitchen tile. The cold felt good against his skin. Ryan tried to center himself there, in the frigid feeling of the tile and the soothing trace of Geoff’s hand along his back.

“What’s going on?”

Jack was speaking now. His hands, instead, were warm. They batted away the hand on his back and took their place. It was like a shock wave to Ryan’s system. Gasping, his eyes snapped open. It wasn’t the morning sun but it was good enough. His tense muscles relaxed and he heard Geoff sigh with relief as he came back to them. 

“Fuck, that was scary. Goddamn.” 

Geoff’s voice matched his previous expression. Tired. Drained. He was the one holding everyone above water. It was more than just holding a world on his shoulders. He knew everyone, from head to toe, from heart to soul. Ryan understood it now, why everyone looked at him with such adoration. It was because the older male was their protective figure in their lives, something that probably neither of them had had before. He was their pillar. Unwavering. Ryan was that once but he could never rival Geoff in that aspect. Who even could? 

And his heart sank, then, as he realized like a swift kick to his gut that he’d have to be at least half of Geoff to be able to hold Ray above water. He needed to get his shit together. He couldn’t fail Ray. He couldn’t fail any of them. He had a mission, of sorts. Ray was more than a mission but the sentiment still stood. 

And he couldn’t face his mother when he died, knowing that he had failed two of his families. Two families. How lucky was he?

“Geoff.” Ryan’s voice was strangely high pitched and giggly. Geoff’s eyes widened comically as Ryan tackled him to the ground. Their laugher blended beautifully and Jack couldn’t help but to join in too. They looked like a group of crazed mad men, laughing after a much too emotional moment. 

After their bellies ached and their lungs begged for oxygen, they turned to each other knowingly. Geoff clasped Ryan on the shoulder, rag dolling him for a few seconds before using him as leverage to stand up. Stretching his arms out wide, he cracked his back and sighed.

“I’m not as young as I used to be,” he spoke sadly. Pouting, he reached for Ryan’s hands and helped him up. Both of them turned to Jack and dragged him up from the floor.

“None of us are young anymore, Geoff,” Ryan pointed out. 

“Don’t make us all weep, Ryan,” Geoff warned. Ryan shrugged as he headed for the living room. It felt like he was leaving behind the moment, the memories. It felt like the kitchen was stained with it. And he knew that Geoff and Jack would want to pester. It was never good to settle on it, to build a home on its foundation. Move on. And Ryan had tried. He had spent fucking years trying. 

And wasn’t that what it meant to be human?

“Hey, now, answer me, asshole. Do you game or not?” Geoff’s shoulder knocked into Ryan’s, making the younger stumble for a few seconds. Geoff used his imbalance to his advantage, pushing his shoulder and smiling as he plopped on to the sectional couch. Jack settled down next to him, watching Geoff as he grabbed the controllers from the floor. 

“Yeah, few rounds of Halo won’t kill me,” Ryan answered. It seemed to be the right one as Geoff whooped and grabbed Halo from the pile next to the four Xboxes. It was certainly convenient having four of them with their own albeit small television, considering how shit multiplayer was with split screen and how the boys probably had differences in the games they enjoyed to play through on single player. Switching three of the Xboxes on, he turned on their individual televisions and returned to the couch. 

“I like you already. You’re gonna fit right in.”

And it was easy how a controller was given to him, one with enough dents and markings for him to know it was Gavin’s without being told. Cradling the device in his hands, he smiled at the familiar curve of the controller and the press of the buttons. It felt like coming home. 

Geoff started up a multiplayer match, sending out invites. When everyone was in, it was easy to share quips and jabs about each other’s shitty throws of a grenade or their complete lack of tact when it came to shooting games. Neither of them were great at it, especially Jack. It became something to bond over and when they got a kill over one of the others, it was easy to trash talk about the kill, how it could have been stolen and there was no way that they could have gotten that or that they died. The room was filled with the easy flow between them and their laughs and jokes were enough to wake Michael and Gavin.

They trailed into the living room, Michael practically steaming with anger at being woken up and Gavin happily bounding over to them, begging to play a round of Halo. He could use a good old-fashioned video game to chase away the nightmares and bring in the sweetness of sleep. Ryan gave him his controller, even going as far as to pat the space between him and Jack. Gavin slipped between them easily, none of them commenting on the fact that Ryan was still a stranger to them. But they had years to bond. 

Michael was a little less easy to convince. Even if he was the one who brought up Ryan to Geoff, he was still weary. He had told Geoff in order to keep them all protected. Have to keep an eye on everyone who wandered the streets. But Geoff took that differently. Another piece for his little family. 

So, Michael struggled a bit to allow it. It took Geoff punching him in the face to stop his stubbornness when he had been asked to join the group. It was enough to rattle him. Geoff knew how to treat him, to shake him from his inability to let in and let go. He had gotten better. He was at least leagues better than Gavin was. But he was still unsure. 

“Come on, Michael, take my spot,” Geoff tried to coax. His voice was sweet but his eyes were harsh. 

“Geoff needs time to recover his ego,” Ryan joked. Gavin giggled beside him, the high-pitched sound turning into a squeal as Jack managed to headshot him from his hiding place. 

Michael didn’t make an affirmation. Instead, he walked over to Geoff. He couldn’t disobey him even if he tried. He still had phantom pain from the punch he threw into his jaw. Hopping on to the couch, he frowned when Geoff wrapped an around around his shoulders, caging him in.

“We’ll talk later.” A nail scratched against his ear. Grumbling, Michael batted the man’s hands away and grabbed the controller from his hands with force. But Geoff simply smiled at him. A stupid, silly one. Michael covered his face with his hand, laughing when Geoff spluttered. 

“Cool your shit, old man. Now, who wants to get their face smashed in?”

When Michael’s hand left his face, Geoff turned his head to stare at the little group that he had managed to get together. One more and everything would be settled. 

Peering over at Ryan, he narrowed his eyes when he caught Ryan’s eye. The younger male tilted his head to the side curiously before nodding in understanding. They both knew their previous conversation wasn’t over. Their staring game was interrupted when Gavin flailed and managed to elbow Ryan straight in the ribs.

“Goddamn it, Gavin!” Ryan exclaimed. Gavin pouted at the older male as Ryan glared at him. “I’ll get you for that later,” he promised. The smirk that caressed his face sent shivers down Gavin’s spine. Yelping, he used his controller as a shield.

On the other side of the couch, Michael cackled madly as the final score came up. He had absolutely trounced the other two. He needed some new competition but for now the win had eased the tensions in his body a bit. Standing from the couch, he threw the controller at Geoff, smiling widely when it landed straight on his nuts and he yelped in surprise. With his high gone, Michael grabbed Gavin’s wrists and pulled him forward.

“Michael!” Gavin squawked, the name coming out gnarled as Michael dragged him on to the ground.

“Come on, Gavvy, sleep,” he explained as he settled on the floor. “Grab some blankets.” A light smack to his head sent Gavin to the bedroom to grab blankets. He dragged some from their shared bedroom, dumping them over Michael. The older male moved the blankets around until they served as a cocoon for them. Shoving the remaining few under his head, he patted the empty space beside him and smiled when Gavin laid down next to him. “We’re going to sleep so everyone shut the fuck up.”

Shaking his head at the boy, Geoff turned all of the consoles off. Pushing the rest of the controllers off of the couch, he kicked them until they rested in front of the entertainment center. Since he knew that the remote had probably fucked off somewhere (he blamed Gavin), he stood and turned each of the televisions off manually. 

Turning around, he raised an eyebrow at Ryan expectantly, nodding towards the hallway where they could at least talk quietly enough not to disturb the boys. Nodding, Ryan followed Jack and Geoff into their shared bedroom. Shutting the door quietly behind him, Ryan leaned against the door and decided to let go. Try and let go.

“Look, I kinda freaked out back there and I’m sorry. I’m not…” Ryan seemed to not find his words again. He scratched his nails against his jeans, frowning as the chewed ends caught frayed threads. Curling them around his fingers, he pulled and watched as they turned his fingers purple and red from the pressure. Releasing the thread, he rubbed at the pushing skin and sighed heavily. He didn’t want to add another burden to Geoff’s shoulders but it was the same with the mask. He had to let it go. “It was both of my parents, my little brother and I. We were in the park when this dude in a hockey mask came running through the area, flinging his gun around and pointing it at everyone there. In the commotion, I lost track of my little brother. I was with my parents and they told me to go ahead and find them. I left them there.”

His story ended abruptly and Jack and Geoff were smart enough to piece together the rest of it. Geoff chanced a glance at Jack, the two of them nodding as an answer to a silent question.

“Is that why you were spewing shit about not being able to protect us?” Ryan could only nod at Geoff’s question. 

Jack’s voice was far too gentle, as he spoke, “Parents never want their children to die before them. You did what you could.”

“Yeah, if either of you fucking idiots decided to get yourselves killed, I’d throw myself in the line of fire so I die before any of you. It’s a parent thing. Like Jack said,” Geoff added. He didn’t ask Ryan if it was okay before stepping forward and wrapping a hand around his shoulder. “Look, you’re gonna be ashamed for a long damn time but the faster you stop being blind, the easier it’ll be to move on.”

Neither of them asked what had happened to Ryan’s brother and Ryan was thankful for that. It was bad enough that he had to say something about his parents. Thank god the two men knew where the line was drawn. 

“Thanks,” Ryan murmured. He even smiled, one that strained against his cheeks but fit there in the moment nonetheless, as Geoff ruffled his hair. It felt good to share the weight. The shadows and the angel were good enough to speak to and vent to and the people he killed were good enough sources too but sometimes, you just need a living, breathing human. 

“No problem, Ryan. Now, where do you wanna sleep? We have two bedrooms. Jack and I sleep in this one. Michael and Gavin sleep in the other but since they’re here, you can take their room or the couch.”

“I’ll stay on the couch,” Ryan decided as he opened the bedroom door. Stepping into the hallway, he looked back at Geoff. 

“Protect them from any bad spooky monsters, okay, Ryan?” 

And Ryan, for once, smiled and felt like he could. 

“Of course, Geoff.”

One last smile and Ryan shut the bedroom door. Walking back into the living room, he sat back down on the couch and crawled to the other end of the couch, the one closet to the two sleeping boys. He stole another random hoodie from the ground next to him and shoved it under his head. 

Curling into himself, Ryan watched the two boys on the floor sleep, making sure they were still breathing. When he saw their chests rise and fall, he finally allowed himself to close his eyes. He’d get two hours tops but compared to most nights, it’d be a dream. 

His last thought before slipping down into darkness was the angel’s voice coming out, strong and true.

_You’re very special, Ryan._   



	3. interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angel of death remembers their meeting quite fondly.

Mass shooting. 

Park.

Los Santos. 

Mid-day. 

The angel was reaping the final three souls. A boy lying against a tree trunk, brain and bark mixing together. Resting a hand over the boy’s clear blue eyes, he shut them tight and watched as his white soul bubbled up from his heart. Pure. A smile dared to grace the angel’s pale and marred lips. 

Two more souls.

He wandered the park. His eyes, swimming like black holes, swallowed every detail, tracking the movements of the killer. Flashes of blue light alerted him to the two souls blinking for him, awaiting for their turn. 

But the man hovering over their forms made him pause.

The darkness that swallowed the man was like that of the shadows that the angel bred. Not even the moon could cast a light on a darkness like that. He felt his caved in chest give way, his ribs expanding. Hm. Enough darkness to swallow. Greedily, he walked up to the man in mourning and sunk his chipped fangs into the meat of his neck. He could feel his pulse weaken and give to him the soul beneath. 

His vessel. 

For now, at least.

Rolling his shoulders back, he unclenched his hands and moved to kneel over the two bodies that the man was mourning over. A mother and a father. Memories slashed through his brain, cutting off his gaze and his focus. He struggled to reign in the soul, in the depression that marred its beauty. 

When he gained enough control, the angel lifted the man’s hands and pressed them over the eyes of the man’s parents. Their blue eyes were made from the swirls of the sky. One look into them and the angel almost missed the beauty of a cloudless day. He wondered if the man would ever look up the same way again. 

Closing each of their eyes, he moved his hands down to their chest, right over their still hearts and smiled as they rose. They danced in front of him, pausing. It certainly was not a rarity that souls did this. Like most, they still felt attached to this world. 

_I’ll protect your son._

The angel never made promises but sometimes, even he felt sad. 

_His name’s Ryan. Please._

The mother was whispering to him, her voice soft and sweet, like ovens and homemade dough, warm and homey. It curled around the angel and he closed his eyes to let her in, to let her song cover him. The man’s soul, somewhere underneath his power, quivered and trembled. He could feel the power of her weight, of her own soul trying to shield that of her son’s. 

_Please._

She kept repeating it, unable to say anything else as the angel calmly reassured her that he would. For there was another reason that the angel had chosen this man as one of the few vessels he would choose. 

_He’s special. He’ll be fine._

And she seemed to believe him. Opening his eyes, the angel smiled, teeth glinting in the sun, as her soul traveled upwards. The father hesitated, not used to using words but instead expressions. But the angel could sense it. He saw it in the man’s eyes before he allowed them to rest. Nodding, he watched as the father’s soul rose up into the air, vanishing with the clouds.

A rumbling made his deformed head snap to the side. The right half of Los Santos was a blaze with fire. It popped in his cut ears, crackling. Another tragedy. An angel of death’s job was never-ending. 

Rising from the ground, he called for his familiars with a swirl of his hands. A red circle and a white circle floated beside him, both of them waiting for their command.

_Go ahead and see what happened. I’m afraid one of the survivors will need me._

It was even rarer for the angel to need to interject into two souls in one day. He hummed as the circles of pulsing light, invisible to normal eyes, shot through the city. He stayed behind, choosing to hide away in a nearby area covered with trees. 

_Who are you?_

The voice startled the angel. Now, wasn’t this just absolutely enthralling. 

_Hello, Ryan. It’s very nice to hear that you’re alive and well._

_I wouldn’t say ‘alive’, really. Now, who are you?_

_The angel of death. You’re very special, Ryan._

When Ryan did not speak after that, the angel deemed him as shocked into silence. A muffled whimper made him look down to the ground. Smiling, he happily watched as the red circle rushed back over to him, pushing against the man’s form, testing the skin of his vessel. She seemed to approve of it. But the white circle was not. Instead she was hovering, her light dimming a bit in despair. The tragedy was too great. A blaze. The angel almost did not want to see the charred bodies. 

Bending down on the ground, he beckoned the white circle of light forward. She caressed the man’s skin, his soul screaming as her light injected into his veins. He saw the tragedy flash before his eyes. When it paused on a lone figure standing in the distance, he knew it was his next vessel. He didn’t want to leave the man he was holding up in behind. But this was a boy. 

_Listen to me, girls, stay with this man. Keep him safe as I take over the boy._

The circles pulsed with understanding as the angel gathered his strength. He ripped himself from the man’s soul, a shredding sound echoing in his ears as he slipped out and into the air. The man’s body crumbled to the ground, exhaustion seeping from every pour. The white and red circles of light stayed over his body, watching for any signs of distress or malformations from having the angel harvest his body.

_Stay there, little ones. I’ll be back._

As he floated around the city, the angel of death, for once, felt fear curl up within him, marred and rotten. He did not know how this tale would end but they were connected. 

The shooting in the park. The man. A blaze. The boy. The culprits behind each of them. He could see their threads knot together. 

Crew. Pack. Family.

His teeth glistened in the light of the fire bursting in the sky. 

_Absolutely enthralling_.


	4. tripped up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's two days before the mission and Ryan finds himself slipping.

It was two days before the mission. They decided on something simple. A small convenience store on the left side of town. Enough money to split four ways but not a whole lot that it would warrant a thorough police search. Los Santos police only cared about things bigger then store’s loosing their day’s worth of income.

Gavin would stay in a back alley close by, choosing this time to be surveillance. Geoff would hang back with him, driving the getaway vehicle for all of their sakes. Ryan would be a distraction and Michael would get the money. Quick and easy. A couple minutes top.

But it wasn’t something Ryan was used to. So, he was distracting himself with one of the few ways he knew how.

Dictionary pages fluttered around the closet. Ryan was huddled into the corner, eyes obsessively taking in the word, its usage, its meaning. When nothing clicked, his eyes squeezed shut and he leaned his head back, wishing he’d tilt it just right to snap it.

He’d love to see crimson splash against the grimy tile. He’d love to hear a struggle. He yearned for something that would placate the fire that bubbled under his skin because this was something new for him.

All of it was unknown.

“Dude, you’re fucking weird. How did we ever decide to bring you in?” an accented voice torn the fragile threads of the silence that Ryan was engulfing himself in.

A light flickered on and stayed. Too bright. Ryan curled inside himself further, the mask that was practically glued to the skin of his face digging into his arms.

“Just trying to learn here. Care to give a guy some privacy, Michael?”

Asking Michael Jones for such a thing made the kid turn into an overbearing father, one that would almost rival Geoff.

“Did you fucking regress in time or some shit? What is there to possibly learn? It’s killing, dude. Unless you’re reading a book on torture.”

Michael’s grimace was true. He didn’t like slow killing. Only explosives. He didn’t have to see faces when there was smoke and fire everywhere. He didn’t have to hear screams because the whistle of a rocket or a pop of a grenade would blow out his ears enough to block it.

Coping mechanism.

His anger was like that too. He never stood in front of a mirror or met someone’s eyes. He never wanted to see how much it marred his face. He never wanted to witness what it did.

_You’re so cute, Michael. Such a sweet baby face you have. Won’t you smile for me, honey?_

Each of them had their thing and their own memories.

For Ryan, Michael would never be able to guess. And he didn’t really want to know.

“No, not about that.”

When the light finally dimmed enough in Ryan’s vision, he lifted his head and showed Michael the page that he had ripped out and torn until there was one word and meaning on the page.

Family.

When Michael peered at the meaning, he laughed. Loud and boisterous. Almost never ending like how much Michael loved to run his mouth. He never shut up. Mostly because when he found that he had a voice, he fucking used it. No one would not hear him.

“So, whose the dad and the mom and the kids in this whole arrangement?” Michael wondered out loud. Shrugging, Ryan finally stood up.

“Jack’s probably the mom. Geoff’s the dad for sure,” Ryan commented as he brushed the grime and balls of dust from his jeans. Michael balled up the dictionary page, frowning when Ryan’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Exactly. You know. I know.” He shrugged as he spun on his heel, opening the closet door and leaving it open with the tip of his shoe so Ryan could pass through. When he did, he shut the door and handed the older male the crumpled ball of paper. “I don’t know who took in who. But that doesn’t matter. Crew, right?”

For once, Ryan didn’t falter. He didn’t grimace. His fingers relaxed and his shoulders rolled back. Tensions eased. It felt warm to be a part of something, to belong to something. It was secure. The morning sun could barely compare. And, Ray. No, Ryan wouldn’t mention the boy yet. A friend of Michael’s. The angel of death loved to toy with him.

“Yeah, crew.” A pause. “Always.”

The smile that Ryan gave Michael was reassuring. Even though it was only half a smile and was a bit shaky, Michael knew it meant everything.

When someone runs with the bad parts of town, they get to know every name and face on the streets. Ryan was the masked one, the one they called James. Hardened steel. Never bent. The way he killed left scars, nightmares. The shadows of death welcomed him with open arms.

Michael and his crew knew of Ryan before he even stepped foot on to their path. It was odd but they knew it was destined in a way, if a killer could even begin to believe in that bullshit. Geoff knew who was worthy enough to run with them.

_Ryan will protect you._

They were afraid of him, in a way. None of them would admit it. But Ryan did damage and severe damage at that. To run with that type of inhumanity was suicide. But there was good somewhere underneath all that.

Michael saw it when Ryan finally half smiled at him. Geoff and Jack found it when Ryan let his charm out, his odd as fuck humor that left them questioning and then loosing their shit at the same time. And the kid was extremely intelligent. Jack and him had spent countless hours cleaning weapons, forging new ones, dreaming of the video game weapons in real life and then tinkering around with objects and wires, shelves and building materials.

Gavin had found someone to be a complete idiot with and Ryan always let him climb all over him like he was a jungle gym. It saved Michael a few bruises and headaches. And both of them were hardhead, emotions locked away types. They brooded together in what they held in. Sometimes, they went to each other when it was too much. A silent look was all it took for them to just get it. It meant a lot, especially when the others got frustrated about it. They even forced each other to be open. But there will always be things that they would hide. At least for a little longer.

So, by the end of it, all of them began to understand what Geoff meant and why he had wanted Ryan in with them.

_It’s another piece, guys. Another one and we’ll be set._

He always wanted a six-man crew. It divided easily. For Michael, he really wanted his best friend, Ray, to be with them but that was like pulling teeth. He had to get Geoff’s approval first, though.

Ryan watched as Michael’s thoughts crossed his face. His emotions hardened with each one and he wondered if Michael, too, was worried about Ray. Except he wasn’t supposed to know about Ray. Michael hadn’t mentioned his friend to any of the crew. Even Geoff. Ryan wondered if Ray was safer not knowing. But then he knew how that could throw anyone into insanity.

“So, Ryan.” Michael crossed his arms across his chest and leveled Ryan with this stare. It wasn’t one that he usually got coming from the younger male. He only saw it when Michael was dreaming up of ways to go after someone who had dealt him or any of them a wrong hand. Standing upright, he nodded for Michael to continue. “I have a friend, Ray, okay? I want him in but…I figured you could persuade him. Get him to join. I still have to ask Geoff but there’s no way he’d refuse. We need a sniper. A quiet guy. Ray’s the one to do it. Geoff’s gonna be easy to persuade. But I need Ray to go along with it.”

Michael’s gaze faltered just a bit. A gooey core. Michael was a sweetheart, completely endearing. He wondered what it took to get Michael to bury that away. And he wondered if Michael could see his expression, too, despite the mask. He wondered if Michael could tell that Ryan was already there with him.

“Of course.”

Ryan wanted to add more but he couldn’t. It’d give away that he knew a bit more of the story then Michael did. It still left his stomach churning when Ryan thought of the future, how he was going to end up protecting the boy. He didn’t want to fail again. There was so much on his shoulders, now. If he failed Ray, he destroyed his chances of having a family. Not having anyone can become routine but at some point, it becomes far too mundane. People were born with people. Despite everything, he still wishes to be surrounded by them. But a select group. He could see himself with the other five boys for the rest of his life. Like he said, always.

“Thanks, Ryan. I just think that he’ll get along with you better. And he won’t listen to me anymore.”

Stricken with sadness, Michael bowed his head. He wanted the best for his friend and that wasn’t living in an apartment all alone, brooding and cataloging every which way you could snipe a guy to make him pay for whatever the fuck he did. He wasn’t blind, no matter how much Ray wanted to believe that he was absolutely ignorant of everything. He had been with Ray for fucking years. There’s no way you forget everything about a person just because they want to. No, that wasn’t Michael.

“No, I get it. Kid’s probably all whacked up from something.” Ryan moved forward, just a few steps so he could wrap a hand around Michael’s right shoulder. Michael didn’t jump at his sudden touch. It was a good thing. They were getting along. He could just see Geoff smiling and bouncing on his heels in glee.

“We all are,” Michael grumbled. Rubbing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and let out the exhaustion he was suffering from in one exhale. “I gotta get to Geoff. Tell him about Ray.”

“Good idea. I’ll head to where Ray is. Take care of it now.” A nod and a half smile was enough to seal the deal.

And when they parted ways, Michael stopped short in front of the door to Geoff and Jack’s bedroom. Glancing over his shoulder at Ryan’s retreating form, his heart seized up.

He didn’t give Ryan an address.


	5. beg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray struggles to find his voice and his part in the world. Michael thinks he knows best. Ray isn't so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very important note: the first part of the chapter, the night with Ray and Michael at the beach, takes place before Michael tells Ryan about Ray. The morning after is when Michael tells Ryan about Ray and so forth.
> 
> Title of chapter courtesy of Beg by Evans Blue.

It was night again.

The television screen could not lull him to sleep. The press of the buttons, the flick of the trigger. Routine. He was stubborn. Find a path, stick to it. He was playing Hotline Miami for the third time and he was getting frustrated at his stupid mistakes, ones that no matter how many times he played, he made. Routine. He wanted to hit that guy first, not the other one. He wanted to go down that hallway and not in the other room. But they shot him before he could even blink. He had to rethink it through. But his brain was static.

The controller slammed on to the ground.

Ray pulled his knees up to his chest, his breathing labored, heavy. Uneven. He tried to find a pattern, a ticking that would help him get back. He used the music from the game to center himself. Closing his eyes shut, he smiled when his breathing became softer. In and out. Inhale and exhale.

It was night again.

And Ray was sleepless.

Restless.

Standing up, Ray paced in front of the flickering light of the television screen.

Keep moving.

He needed to get out of the apartment. He didn’t care that his Xbox was still running or that the television was on or that the tap was dripping or that his heart was pounding. He grabbed his phone from where he threw it on to the couch and walked out of the apartment. Locking the door behind him, he rushed to the roof. When he got to the ladder that led to the back alley, he descended down its rusty rungs. Pausing once he landed on the ground, he unlocked his phone and tapped the number he knew by heart.

“Ray? What’s it-?”

“Can I hang with you? Just for a few?”

“Ray, it’s like…jesus christ, dude. It’s four in the fucking morning.” And Ray knew that the older male was gonna go off a long tangent, despite how late it was and how he was, most likely, gonna wake up the rest of the people he was with. But all he got was a soft question, its theme much too harsh, “Something you need to tell me or what? You’re the one that woke me up and you’re gonna tell me the truth or I will personally show you what it’s like to piss me off. For real, Ray. Not kidding here.”

Dragging his fingers through his scruff, Ray paced back and forth in a circle.

“I just need to get out. Like…can I borrow one of your bikes or car or something? Just need…yeah.”

He could practically see Michael slamming his head into the nearest solid object. Ray wasn’t good at words, damn it, and it was a pet peeve of Michael’s for sure. He had tried to tell Ray to be blunt, forward, no cares in the world. But Ray was so easily tongue-tied. He was so easily shattered.

“Ray, you don’t have a damn license. Here, I’m gonna grab my wallet and I’m gonna pick you up, okay? We’ll get out of the city for a bit.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just hang here. I don’t-.”

“Ray, who are we again?”

“Um, assholes who are somehow friends with each other?”

“Okay, yeah, but more importantly, like you said, we’re friends. We help each other. So, I’m gonna get my wallet and I’m gonna come fucking help you.”

The single beep, indicating the end of the call and, most importantly, the conversation, was harsh in Ray’s ear. Sighing, he moved towards the street. Pausing at the edge of the sidewalk, he watched the road for signs of one of Michael’s many cars.

He didn’t know what he was gonna do when Michael finally asked him what was wrong but for now, he just needed to focus on getting out. Getting away. When headlights flashed in the distance, Ray thanked whoever above that Michael lived with his crew not too far from him. It felt good to have a close connection to a place and a person who he could fall back on. It gave him an out. Exactly what he needed in that moment.

Stepping on to the road, Ray walked behind the car and to the passenger side. His hands trembled as they latched on to the door handle. A solid weight. Gripping it tightly until his knuckles turned white, he slowly opened the door and slipped inside the warmth of the car.

Michael barely said a word as the passenger door shut. Once Ray was buckled in, he shoved his foot on the gas and sped down the street. His car purred beneath him, the feeling soothing the ache in his eyes and body.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Ray murmured, watching the older male carefully for any signs of distress. In the world that Michael chose, burdens were common. All the more reason to be concerned when something tipped a bit too far off the edge.

“Nah, just tired. We spent all night thinking of a mission.”

“Tomorrow?” Ray guessed. Shaking his head, Michael spun the wheel, making a sharp left down the street leading towards the beach. He could use the lull of the ocean. He hoped that the water would be cold.

“No, sometime next week. Still have to flesh out the details,” Michael explained. Ray hummed as he nodded his head. When the car came to a screeching stop in the middle of the parking lot, Ray opened the passenger side door and climbed out. He didn’t wait for Michael as he slid off his vans and rushed to dip his toes into the sand. “Jesus, Ray, eager are we?”

His words were cautious. Testing the waters. Ray loved Michael, he did, but the fucker was always treating him like glass. They were too much alike. Always stubborn. Always cautious of tripping on a land mine and fucking it all up.

How many times have they failed?

How many times has it been spoken out loud?

When Ray said nothing, Michael didn’t wanna push it so he sat down on the sand, near enough to the water but not close enough to where he would get soaked. Fishing out his lighter, he held it in front of his eyes. He flickered the flame back and forth with a practiced roll of his thumb. He watched the contrast between the warm sparks and the cool blues of the soothing waves.

In his peripheral, he frowned when Ray sat beside him but scooted a bit away from him. He peered over his shoulder at the boy beside him. The flicker of his lighter illuminated his concerned gaze.

“Too much.”

Didn’t make any sense but Michael shut off the lighter anyhow and pocketed it away. Whatever. He wasn’t here to harm those he was tight certified bros with. That wasn’t his game.

“Sorry, Ray.”

And Ray knew Michael meant every word. The kid was fucking gooey and sometimes Ray felt like he was sticky from head to toe after speaking to Michael. Caramel. Ray was really digging for some right about now.

“But, anyway, back to what the fuck that was on the phone.” Michael paused for added effect before continuing, “Are you okay, Ray?”

“Just…remembering things, you know?” Ray eventually said.

“Oh, yeah, I remember a lot,” Michael scoffed as he pulled his knees to his chest. Resting his chin on his knees, he inhaled and exhaled with each wave. Salty sea air. It burned as it settled into his lungs. “That all you’re gonna say?”

Michael didn’t mean to snap but Ray was getting irritating.

“Is this about how I won’t join you? Michael, shit, you been shoving that down my throat for years. Quit it, would you?”

Ray knew that there was a bigger motive here. Michael always had something nagging at him and it almost always destroyed him. Marred his features. He wanted to slice Michael with the glass of a mirror, force him to feel his reflection, force him to see what this force inside him did to him.

Ray had spent years dealing with it. If Michael was a demon, it’d be his familiar. Ugly and red and black in the center. Polluted. It stung worse than smoke. It burned harsher than fire. Left burns that couldn’t be remedied by skin grafts. Deformities.

And, hell, Ray despised fire the most.

“I can’t when you won’t fucking listen to me.”

“Well, you won’t fucking listen to me either!”

Ray was standing now. This was doing shit all at getting him to calm down. He didn’t want a fight with Michael. He wanted to share his warmth and spend some time with him. Play some games, shoot the shit and forget about the destruction that they caused and the demons that had latched their fangs into their necks.

He didn’t want Michael’s bullshit. Michael didn’t understand what he felt. He didn’t want to face it. So, when it got to be too much, he exploded and watched as the shrapnel hit everyone else except for himself. He never took responsibility. But if he would just look in the mirror, he’d see the wounds. He’d see everything for what it really was. Reality. It was a struggle.

Were they dreaming again?

“I’m gonna walk home. Stay here and mope for all I care.”

Ray was done. He left Michael there on the beach, with the waves and his lighter as his only company. Somehow, Ray hoped that the waves would drown him and that his thumb would slip on the upstroke.

As Ray walked the streets of Los Santos to his apartment, he stayed underneath the street lights and caressed the knife that he had practically glued to his hip. But he was lucky. Nobody was out there, gunning to kill him or worse. He made it to his apartment, thankfully, in one piece. Climbing up to the roof, Ray decided that he was gonna be like Michael. He’d brood in a place he found as safety. Home base. The roof.

Crawling on his belly over the lip of the roof and on to the harsh asphalt, he laid there spread eagle and let the night wash him with their shadows. He wished for an air strike. Five kill streak. Get an air strike; kill himself somehow in the mix. That sounded far too good.

Stretching out his fingers, Ray frowned at the ache in the old bones. He wished for his controller but he couldn’t move from his spot. Sighing, he squeezed his eyes shut and slipped into a shaky sleep.

***

When Ray woke the next morning, he smiled at the sun hidden behind the clouds. Perfect weather. It’d be good to get some air, to stay on the roof for a bit. With that decided, he grabbed his beautiful weapon from its safety box in his bedroom and then up to the roof again.

Settling near the cover of the door to the roof, Ray grumbled as the modified asphalt of the rooftop rubbed against his shirt and exposed his stomach. He tried to pay no heed to the burn of the rubber material on his skin. Instead, he focused on the high-powered sniper rifle cradled in its stand.

Looking down the sights, he focused on the man across the street. He was pacing the sidewalk, checking behind his shoulder and all around him. But never towards the apartment building that Ray was stationed on.

He had been watching this guy since he was seventeen and living in an apartment all his own (the details were still fuzzy on how - but he ran with it and never questioned luck).

He wondered if the guy would hear the bullet before it pierced his skull and shot straight through his brain. He wondered if the guy would think a single thought or if a muscle would even dare to twitch. He wondered if his heart would even beat or skip.

Ray could only hope that all the man felt was silence. He wanted to see the man suffocate in the stillness. To feel just an ounce of what Ray had been suffering.

He could do it.

Take one look down the sights and pull the trigger.

Watch the bullet fly and whiz.

Watch his body shake and tremble.

Watch it hit the concrete.

Hear the screams.

Run and never look back.

But then there was movement behind him. A shuffling. A drag of a black worn out shoe against the shitty asphalt.

Whipping around, Ray’s eyes searched the roof wildly. When his eyes locked on the man walking towards him, he stood and with a finesse that bellied his weight and age, he swung a right hook straight to the man’s jaw.

The man didn’t even see him move his arm before he was knocked out cold against the roof.

Panting, Ray tensed his shoulders before letting his body relax. Well, the man who had attempted a strange as fuck sneak attack was not the man from below. It was both bad and good news. Bad because Ray lost sight of the wanted criminal and good because he finally got a punch in on someone. He had been going stir crazy for days.

Ray allowed himself to smile as he grabbed his sniper rifle. His beautiful sniper rifle. Someday it would be put to its intended use. But for now, he’d cradle it lovingly and think of the images that it could produce. All while taking care of the man who dared to take him down and intrude on his territory. Sometimes Ray was an asshole. But he had to keep his guard up. It was practically innate.

Picking up the stand for his rifle, he held both pieces of equipment close to his chest. He debated on leaving the mystery man on the roof but he looked far too peaceful lying there. Sighing, Ray walked over to the metal door to the roof. Kicking out the rock that he had set there to ensure that he wouldn’t be locked out, he stepped into the apartment building. Leaving the rock there, he jogged down the steps.

Pushing the door leading into the hallway open, he thanked his luck that he had lucked out with a top floor apartment. Not only was it a perfect view but an amazing outlet to the roof. And he didn’t have to pay for it. He never wanted to go to the owner of the building and ask. He didn’t want his one true spark of luck to run out.

Fishing his key card from his pockets, he slid it through the slot. When the light switched to green, he toed open the door. Laying his sniper rife and stand on the marble countertop in the kitchen, he ventured back outside into the hallway. He paused before going up the concrete steps to the roof.

He wondered if Michael had sent this man to persuade him. Sometimes the older male could be crafty. That and he knew that he would get nowhere with Ray. Maybe Michael had finally listened to what he had said on the beach.

See, the thing was was that Michael wanted Ray to be a part of the crew that he ran with. The same one that had been the silent killers of Los Santos. No one knew of their whereabouts. Except Ray of course. And Ray would never rat on Michael. For many reasons. One, they were certified bros. And two, well, Michael ran with a family. Not just a crew. A family that would protect their own. Even if meant killing one of their own’s best friends. A true family, if Ray could even begin to understand the definition of that elusive word.

So, Michael most certainly sent this man to talk to him. Told him he’d be on the roof more than likely. Never told him, however, not to sneak up on him. Ray liked to win with stealth but would never hesitate to attack with his body.

When it came to watching the man who had killed his family for the perfect moment to kill him dead, Ray got into a mood. One that took hours to shake himself out of. A mood that had been crafted by vengeance. It had kept Ray awake most nights. Insomniac. Depressed. Anxious. Nightmares. Troubled and forgotten like a rat on the street, god, Ray didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. All he had was his gorgeous sniper rifle and his video games. But sometimes, even that wasn’t enough to break the silence.

What would Michael think if he knew?

What would Michael do if he saw him like this?

Ray didn’t want to think about it. Rubbing his elbow, he pinched the skin and barely winced as his nails dug in deep. Screwing his eyes shut, he squared his shoulders and opened the door to the roof. Climbing up the steps, he kicked the rock to the side and then back into place. Routine. Grab. Push. Pull. Kick. Repeat. He was reduced to steps, to the mundane. Autopilot.

Was he even alive anymore?

On some nights, he begged and screamed.

_No, please, it’s a nightmare._

_It just has to be._

To keep his attention on something else other than his rampant thoughts, Ray kneeled beside the man that he had punched out cold. There was a generous bruise blooming on his chin and cheek. His knuckles still stung from the impact and Ray knew that they would both need ice packs. But how the fuck was he gonna carry this lug of a man down a row of concrete steps and into his apartment?

Rocking on his heels, he leaned back and fished out his phone. Time to tell Michael that his plan had failed. For once. He knew that there’d be no hard feelings after the incident on a beach. None of them would want to dig. But telling him he knocked out, probably, one of his own? That wouldn’t fly.

“Ray, my boy, you always choose the worst times to call.”

Rolling his eyes, he grumbled as he kept a steady gaze on the man’s chest, watching it rise and fall. He wondered how long it would take him to come to.

“That’s a wonderful greeting, Michael. Nice to hear your voice too.”

“Shut it, asshole. What is it? It has to be quick.”

Ray heard screaming and squealing on the other side and wondered if Michael was on a job with a zoo or if he was getting laid. Either way, Ray didn’t want to know what was or what wasn’t up.

“That weird ass fucker you sent me. I knocked him out. I need help carrying him down to my apartment.” Picking at the dirt in his nails, Ray frowned as he noticed that his right hand was swelling and red. Shit. He had done a number on the guy without even thinking it through. Sometimes, he thought too much. And then other times, he thought very little. All in the worse of times.

“You fucking did what, Ray?” It was spoken so loudly and with such disbelief that Ray pulled his phone away from his ear. Damn Michael. He really needed to tone down the explosiveness sometimes.

“I told you. Now, help or not?”

“You sound weird.” A sigh. “Did you do anything?”

Now was not the time for Michael to turn older brother on him.

Now was not the time for Michael to hear how Ray was when he was in sniper mode. He didn’t want to label himself. He didn’t want it spoken out loud.

“No, I didn’t. Except knock him out cold. Can you hurry?”

“Like I said, I-.”

Voices crowded Michael’s words and even though his accent was distinct, Ray was getting lost in the others that were overpowering his own. It was something that Ray never once dwelled on but he had, actually, never met Michael’s crew. Narrowing his eyes at the man laid out before him, he cursed his goddamn luck when the pieces clicked. He hated when he guessed right. Fuck his life.

“Dude, look, I’m sorry I threw my hand at one of your own’s face. It-.”

“Shut it, Ray. I wanted him to fucking talk you into joining not marrying your goddamn hand.” He could just picture Michael rubbing his eyes and grumbling how Ray was a piece of shit. A well known truth. “Well, look, me and Gav are gonna head over and help you. But he’s staying with you. You’re talking over this shit with him whether you want to or not.”

All business kind of tone. Michael had forged his signature on a deal that Ray had never knew existed. Fuck Jones in the ass, seriously. He wanted Ray to join so bad that he was two seconds away from sucking his dick to persuade a ‘yes’ out of him. He wondered if he would even be needed. Hell, did their leader know? Michael was a kiss ass but did he seriously get his nose so goddamn brown that he convinced his leader to consider Ray? Ray doubted it.

“Whatever, Michael. Just get here quick.”

Ray didn’t even want to know who this ‘Gav’ person was. He had pressing matters on his hand like how the fuck to calm down and how the fuck he was gonna say ’no’ to a guy who, once awake, would shoot him dead on the spot for even thinking of touching him. He didn’t know the people who ran with Michael but he could only imagine the worst of burdens that they all carried. And this man, why, he seemed like a Hellhound, straight from the deepest of hells.

Ray really, really never thought through things.


	6. interlude 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray was eighteen and Michael was nineteen when they first met each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerist apologies for the lateness of this chapter. I could come up with a million excuses but they'd never make up for it. I will try my hardest to finish it this week. I love every single one of you so much <3.

Ray wiped the sweat dripping from his brow. Bending over, he enjoyed the head rush before standing upright. Leaning against the front door, he clumsily unlocked it and pushed it open with his elbow. Stumbling inside, he set his keys on the small cream table (his mother always like monochrome colors) beside the door. Rushing to the kitchen, he threw open the refrigerator and grabbed a couple of water bottles. Climbing on to the marble counter top, he took a swig from one of the bottles. 

It chilled his insides, allowing for his lungs to grasp for more breath easily. Fuck. His calves and hamstrings ached with every minuscule movement of his body. Worry laced itself in his thoughts. Maybe he had pushed himself too hard this time. He had only been running for a few weeks but everyone was pushing at him to get better (his father’s assistants always dropped by to catalogue his workouts - to make sure that his lousy son by personality and mind didn’t become lousy by physicality). 

Ray didn’t mind the what he would call brutal treatment by his father because it got his mind going and he could always relax after a good run by playing a video game. It allowed his brain to further slip down into a calmed existence, giving him a few hours of centralized focus on the mundane task of pressing buttons, recalling routines (forgetting them most of the time - his stubbornness got in the way), stretching out his legs, wriggling his toes, chewing on an apple and chugging down water bottles. 

The morning usually went just like that. Run at four or five in the morning. Video games until the afternoon. Then, boxing and weights, if he was up for it. And then more videos games. Food and drink was mixed in there somewhere, if he could find enough willpower to break routine and remember the basic necessities. 

Sighing, Ray dangled his aching legs back and forth. For once, he was thankful for the burn. Hopping down the counter, he grabbed his water bottles and an apple and hauled his stash to the living room. Dumping the collection on the couch, Ray grabbed his controller. He was about to start a game up when there was a knock on the front door. Swift and calculated. Two knocks (two clicks). 

For a second, Ray was struck frozen in the center of the living room. But one glance at the clock and he realized that today was the day he was going to get another stupid bodyguard. 

Bodyguards were either men or women hired to take care of Ray and follow some idiot therapist’s advice. 

_This is a very tragic time for the both of you. I believe that you and Ray need to bond over hobbies that the both of you enjoy. Does Ray have friends? I believe that a strong support system will help him cope._

His father just replaced the word ‘you’ referring to himself and shoved in ‘bodyguard’ instead. Ray remembered the first one who was hired. He was a man in his early twenties, freshly dressed with an ironed suit. He smelled like linens and he carried handkerchiefs around (dirtied by the shame that stunk up his soul). He was plastic and Ray easily melted him. 

The last image he saw of the man was his slick backed and grease packed hair wind swept and ruined by the time he came to his father’s hideout, apologizing for ‘loosing’ Ray. Ray actually had just booked it to the arcade in downtown Los Santos when the man wasn’t paying attention (and he certainly never did have a keen eye). The man was easy to loose, easy to forget. 

But the man that Ray was staring at with wide eyes when he opened the front door was nothing like he was used to. 

He had unruly curls. They weren’t jam packed together. A beanie maybe to calm the storm of curls. But Ray couldn’t imagine anything being able to tame them, at least in the terms of fancy gel and cheap hair spray (a previous woman who had watched him seemed to be bathed in the electric, nasty shit). 

“Um…hey.”

It was the lamest of introductions. The man laughed, loud and boisterous. It echoed throughout the silence of the house and Ray couldn’t get enough of its addition. He was used to the quiet and he most certainly never filled the air with his own words (only with his screaming thoughts). It was nice to see the air pop with what the man gave off in waves. 

“Hey, I’m Michael.” The man didn’t stick out a hand to shake or raise an eyebrow at him. All he did was shoulder check Ray out of the way. He ventured like a siren call to the living room. His signature gasp was enough to get Ray moving. A friend who liked video games? Fuck, yeah, he liked this bodyguard already. He hoped he was a keeper. But then he remembered the files that his father had left in his old office. 

Ray had done some snooping, as one does when they’re bored, and found that his father had a whole list of names, all future and past bodyguards. Michael was third to last. A Ryan Haywood was last on the list. He just hoped that the fallout with Michael would be much better then hearing a greasy man’s screams and the sizzle of an iron rod against skin.

Shutting the door quickly, Ray walked into the living room and smiled in satisfaction when Michael was running around the room. His fingers were trailing up spines of video games, brown eyes (almost soulless - Ray wondered what they would look in the reflection of a spark) scanning titles. 

“Dude, I love your fucking collection.” Michael’s voice was one of awe and admiration. 

Ray watched Michael for a few seconds before grabbing his controller and an extra for the older male. Sitting on the couch, he leaned back against the plush cushions and started a multiplayer match. Michael perked up at the infamous sound of Halo, jumping on to the couch and snatching the second controller from Ray’s hands. 

“You wanna see whose better?” Ray challenged. The smirk that played at Michael’s face was fine tuned. Commonplace. 

_He needs friends who have the same hobbies as him. What does Ray like, Mr. Narvaez? Oh, he’s athletic. Well, I’m sure it will be very easy to find friends who like sports._

“What else do you do around this place? Seems completely empty,” Michael commented mid-match. Ray was up five kills but Michael was proving himself as a worthy competitor. He kept up with Ray and even fought back at the same skill level. They were evenly matched. 

Ray found himself slipping just slightly, his fingers missing buttons. His face scrunched up, hands clenching the controller harder. It seemed that the run did nothing to placate his nerves. And having Michael around added something different, something new. He wasn’t used to this.

_Is Ray a shy child or is he relatively outgoing? Oh, well, that’s good that he’s outgoing. Well, Mr. Narvaez, I don’t see a problem at all. I believe your son will do just fine._

He wasn’t his fucking father’s carbon copy. 

Slamming the controller on to the ground, Ray barely listened to Michael’s pleas and screams of his name. He opened the basement door, practically ripping it off its hinges. Descending the staircase, he stalked over to the punching bag. 

Grabbing his red boxing gloves off from the floor, he slid them on with practiced ease and stood before the punching back. He didn’t go into stance at first. He just stood there, imagining who he was punching straight in the jaw (his father never looked so fucking scarred and ugly).

_There will be some negative emotions, of course. Anger, depression, anxiety, etc., etc. I would watch out for him, make sure that his emotions don’t turn volatile._

“Hey, you box, that’s pretty sweet. You know you could have told me instead of running down here.”

Michael’s voice filtered in and out of Ray’s brain. 

Suddenly, blue gloved hands slammed into his own. Brown eyes (they weren’t soulless up close) stared into his own. They were lighter, brighter. They sparked. They didn’t wither.

“Fucking, keep pace with me, asshole.”

Ray didn’t understand at first but then Michael was moving his hands and arms around and kicking gingerly at his ankles until he was in proper position. Sparring. Ray had heard the word be passed around but he never tried it. 

“You go first. I’m afraid you’re gonna space on me and I’m gonna fucking clock the dude I’m supposed to be looking after right in the nose.”

Ray nodded but it was shaky. Sighing, Michael’s brown eyes turned cloudy. Mud. The rain was coming through. Dropping his hands, he moved closer to Ray until they were inches a part and breathing in each other’s space. 

“What the fuck’s wrong with you, kid?”

_He won’t lash out. I don’t think Ray is the type of kid to resort to violence. You shouldn’t have to worry about that, Mr. Narvaez._

“I’m not my father.” And then harder, grittier, “So back the fuck off.” 

The face that Michael was seeing was so warped that he wondered what happened to the quiet, little joyful kid. What was the tipping point? Where was the edge? Ray felt like he had been toeing it for years. 

He was finally soaring over. 

“I’m not gonna be an asshole to you, Ray. We’ve dealt with similar tragedies. Should be easy to show respect.” 

“It’s not you I have a problem with.”

“Same. So, take it out on me.”

And Ray did. 

He threw punch after punch until Michael was stumbling backwards and shouting at him to stop. And Ray did. He had some semblance of self-control. Michael would pant, shake his head and then hold his hands up once more for Ray to punch at. Michael would take hit after hit and that was the difference between them. Yeah, same tragedies. Different way of dealing. 

But they had months to delve in deep, to get to know the demons behind the smiles. 

Ray couldn’t wait.


	7. interlude 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soul bearing moments didn’t come easy nor did they come quick. It took months for Michael and Ray to get to the point where they knew everything about each other (except that one piece of truth that Michael had been chewing on for years - but he’d never reveal that).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: This chapter takes place a few months after the last prelude. 
> 
> A/N 2: Also, I apologize for these preludes kind of eating up the whole story line. But I cannot resist Michael and Ray. They’re pull is too strong for me. The next few chapters will certainly focus back on Ray and Ryan as well as the other crew members. I, honestly, don’t think I can say sorry enough for depriving you guys of what you read this for.
> 
> Special A/N: I’m hinting at a certain possible relationship that will be written later. I did not go into depth in case I got pitchforked by people who don’t like the pairing. So, you get a taste of it.

  
_“Michael, look up. Michael, stay with me. Are you okay? Can you hear me? Chin up, baby boy. You have to stay with me. You have to…have to…”_

Michael woke up, voice hoarse and limbs shaky. His heart pounded something fierce in his chest. It was a frantic war drum; the beginning of a battle. 

Hands wrapped around his wrist, pulling him into a sitting position. Ray’s face came into focus. His eyes were just as wide as his but his touch was sure and tender. 

“You with me yet?”

Michael picked at Ray’s fingers, digging his nails in until the boy winced and let go. He pushed Ray off of him, moving to stand up from the bed. The world spun but he was used to the tilt and blur. 

“Fucking…just a dream, dude. Fuck off, alright?”

“Just a dream my ass,” Ray grumbled. 

The younger male was pissed at him and his growl was just as strong as the beat of his heart but Michael didn’t see it.

He only saw two faces superimposed on the bed, turned to each and speaking in low voices. 

Ray watched his stuck eyes and frowned. There was something carved into Michael, so deep that it went on for miles. A cave system. One could easily get lost. He wondered how long Michael had been searching, stumbling, failing.

Moving off of the bed, Ray grabbed Michael’s arm, dug his nails into his skin. Once he got a good grip on him, he kicked at Michael’s kneecaps until he fell face first on the carpet. Sitting on the older male’s back, he winced when Michael’s screaming popped in his ear drums. They sizzled with searing honesty.

Ray moved to straddle Michael’s back, pinning the older male’s hands above his head. 

“Listen, asshole, fucking man up and explain why the fuck you were screaming your head off at two in the goddamn morning.”

“Eye for an eye.”

Great. Michael was getting cryptic and philosophical. Ray had spent only a few months with the older male as his bodyguard but he easily knew how Michael was when he was drunk. 

He turned into a complete nerd, spewing quotes and talking about old, decaying novels that no one gave a shit about unless they were a writer or a serious reader. He wondered where Michael could have gotten such books. But then again, when it came to Michael, there were a lot more questions than answers and Ray was getting sick of playing the waiting game. Michael would destroy himself if he didn’t get him to talk. Throw water on the fire. Leave only ash behind.

“Michael-.”

“Fucking, I’m screwed up, Ray.”

“Yeah, I know. Head on tight. Or whatever the fuck. Just…” Growling, Ray grabbed a fistful of curls and forced Michael’s head back, just enough to get him to choke on his own spit but not enough to snap his neck off his spine. A power play. Michael was under Ray’s judgement and currently, Ray’s judgement was pretty fucking harsh. “Don’t wanna make you, Michael, but-.”

“I had bodyguard jobs before you. His name was Geoff.” 

Letting go of Michael’s hair, he sighed heavily in relief. 

“Sounds like a nice name,” Ray commented teasingly as he stood up and let Michael get his breathing back under control. 

“Yeah, he was something alright.”

And the dreamy look on Michael’s face as his fingers flexed in the air (imagining inked tattoo fingers grasping and toying with his own) and scrunched his face up in a somber frown (etched by the saddest of truths and the deepest of stories) was enough for Ray to understand.

***

Ray didn’t have a moment like Michael’s. He was too quiet most of the time. Michael easily got twitchy so they didn’t spend time soaking in it for too long. But one night, they were lying on the living room floor, controllers on their bellies and eyes on the ceiling and minds wandering (hearts aching). 

“How do you deal with this?”

Ray didn’t know what ‘this’ was. There was a million things that it could be. He didn’t know how much Michael knew (how much he could find out at the click of a button or with a fast and ruthless trigger hand or out of control flame)

Michael chewed on his bottom lip before heaving himself into a sitting position. “Pick one.” It didn’t really help but Ray tried his hardest to pick one thing out of the mess in his mind. 

“A family has a mommy and a daddy and they fuck and have a son. She’s there all the time. Father isn’t. You know the story.”

Michael’s eyebrows creased. 

“Nah, actually. Neither of mine were around. Divorce was an excuse to further the rift.”

“What were your parents like?” Like a top, Ray wanted to spin it around and around. But Michael slapped a hand on the top, halting Ray in his tracks. 

“A mob boss for a fucking dad. You lucked out man. Mine was a cop. Imagine having an arsonist and criminal for a son. He wanted me gone as soon as I was born.”

“Yeah but he got you bodyguard jobs, didn’t he?”

A good word or two. Could that be enough to cover up the shame in the father’s eyes and the destruction that it caused in the son? Could it hide the truth? 

“I guess.” Michael shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling back on to the ground, back facing Ray. 

The younger male’s eyes bore into his back, burning holes in his ratty t-shirt. It dug into his skin and Michael felt stripped bare. No matter what, somehow, Ray was always a sweet talker, way better than him. The kid didn’t seem like much but he knew how to get eyes off of him. He knew how to spin it around. Probably learned from direct reinforcement from his father. Lord knows how a mob boss runs his home. 

“Never home too?” Ray assumed, scooting a bit closer to the older male. He was shit at comfort but he could offer his body as a source to leek all that poison on. 

Michael took the bait easily. 

Sighing heavy and long, Michael twisted his body around until he was facing Ray. A single hand laid on his. Ray was near bursting in laughter and Michael was wincing. 

“Jesus fucking christ, dude. You’re sweating harder than me when I try to walk up stairs,” Ray commented. Letting go of the younger male’s hand, Michael huffed. 

“Fine, I’ll just hug your precious controller.” Grabbing for Ray’s controller that he had set on the ground between them, he rubbed his hands along the curves and the buttons.

“You’re gonna fucking sweat through them!” Ray exclaimed. Growling, he ripped his controller from Michael’s hands and cradled it to his chest. “Fucking rude as shit dude.”

“I’m sorry was I ruining your baby?”

“Yes, you were.” Michael tried again to grab for it but Ray was quick. Slithering away from the older male, he pressed himself against the living room wall and stuck out his tongue.

“Quit trying to jack it. You’re not gonna get it.” Shaking his head defiantly, he held the controller closer to his chest and watched Michael with careful eyes. 

“You’re fucking weird dude.” Rolling his eyes, Michael shook his head.

“Nah, I’m fucking awesome.” The words dripped with false and exaggerated self confidence. The two boys were alike in that way. They both knew who they were and even though they fucking hated themselves sometimes, they never once would look back and change it all. 

Then with a tip of a scale, Michael shattered the good mood. Bluntly, he said, “My mom was a journalist. She reported on your mom’s death.” 

His eyes were burning with something fierce. There was a spark of darkness there at the beginning of the curl of flames. Ray didn’t catch it in time and Michael thanked his lucky stars above.

“Huh. Funny you’re here then.” Toying with the bumpers, Ray’s lips twitched. “Pity fuck then?”

“No fucking, dude. I don’t like you like that.” 

“Not what I meant asshole.” Ray’s eyes narrowed into slits and Michael wanted to tuck tail and run at the muddy storm that was raging inside them. The younger male was a master of the silent treatment. 

He felt bad for anyone who landed a life with the kid. He had smiles that were sunshine, choppy laughs that were like sharp jabs to the heart that got you all electrified and eyes that swallowed you whole and took you in. God help whoever had to be on the other end of that, all cranked up high and on all the time. 

“I wasn’t gonna fuck you over like that. I know I’m an asshole but I’m not that kind.” Michael’s eyes were just as harsh. 

They took a few seconds to stare the other down before Ray slid his controller across the carpet. It landed with a thud against Michael’s elbow. 

“Thanks,” Ray murmured. 

“You’re welcome.”

Bowing his head, Ray toyed with the strings of his hoodie before shoving one into his mouth. Chewing on the plastic end, he spoke so quietly that Michael almost didn’t catch it.

“My father has spies on me. Constantly watching me, waiting for the right move to cut me off. That’s why I’m running, boxing, whatever else I can do. He’s the final boss and he’s using me for something. I could be going crazy though, you know? But I can’t stop seeing the red lights in my room and the clicks of their guns and the hurried pace of their feet outside the streets. I can’t just forget that a mob boss isn’t human. They never are.” 

And the timorous look on Ray’s face as his pulled his knees to his chest (imagining frigid hands gripping his soul, squeezing the life out of it until it was wrung dry) and how his eyes danced around (marred by paranoia) was enough for Michael to understand.


	8. a long time ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Gavin help Ray drag Ryan to his apartment. Michael, like the precious asshole he is, leaves Ray to deal with Ryan when he wakes. Unbeknownst to Michael, there's a history between them.
> 
> Chapter title: From the song 'A Long Time Ago' by First Aid Kit.
> 
> ***Important A/N at the end***

Rattling on the ladder snapped Ray into attention. But his shoulders relaxed when he saw Michael heaving himself over the ladder and on to the roof. Gavin was not that far behind him even though he was slipping on the rungs slightly. His shoes were never quite made for running and the like. Geoff had yelled at him for it constantly but no one could make Gavin do what he didn’t want to.

“Holy shit, Ray,” Michael’s exasperated exclamation almost made Ray feel prideful. He remembered back when Ray and Michael hung out and boxed. It was hard for Ray to get the hang of it but once he did, Michael made him swear that he’d never throw one at him. A lot of pent up bullshit can be the sweetest of helping hands. 

“He snuck up on me. Bad choice,” Ray explained as he stood up from the roof. Gavin walked over to him, whistling low under his breath.

“Damn, Ray, you a bloody ninja or what?” he asked. The comment made Michael jab him sharply in the gut. The squeal that was forced out of his throat made Michael cackle. 

“Dude, I’ll leave you two to bang if you wanna.” Teasing Gavin was one of Michael’s favorite pastimes if his calculating smirk was anything to go by. He knew what buttons to press and when not to go too far. 

Ray hated to break up the cheery reunion but there was a knocked out guy from their crew on his roof. He was just happy that Michael didn’t bring their leader or he’d be shot dead.

“Yeah, so, gonna help me or not?” Ray wanted to move this along. The faster they got the guy down in his apartment, the easier it would be to breathe and to recollect. 

“I’m still surprised that it didn’t work,” Michael pouted. Shaking his head, he shrugged to himself and then bent down next to Ryan’s knocked out body. 

Ray wanted to fight against Michael, to get him to stop fucking asking him to join their crew. But he didn’t want an argument. He was too tired to be screaming.

“How about I get his underarms and you get his legs?” Ray suggested as he moved to grab the blissed out male underneath his armpits. 

“Sounds good,” Michael agreed. Shoving Gavin gingerly into place beside him, he shoved the right shoe into Gavin’s hands. Once both shoes were secure in their grasp, they began to drag. Ray lifted the man up just enough to where it would be easy to maneuver him down the stairs and around corners. 

It went smoothly despite Gavin getting distracted (by what, Ray honest to god didn’t want to know) and dropping Ryan’s leg. Michael was quick to yell at him to get him going again. It seemed to do the trick and the two of them were like a well oiled machine who had years to work out all the kinks. Ray was kind of in awe that two stupid assholes could somehow work well together. That was the beauty of friendship he supposed. And, hey, it probably did wonders for the status of their crew. 

When they stopped outside his door, he gingerly left Ryan on the floor, leaning him against the wall so his head didn’t suffer any impact. Turning the knob, he pushed the door open. Grabbing Ryan under his armpits, he dragged him the rest of the way until he came to his final stop in the kitchen. 

“Thanks, Michael for-.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m amazing and all that! See you!”

Before Ray could blink, Michael was dragging Gavin out the door. The door rattled with the force of his slam. 

Peering down at the older male on his kitchen floor, he sighed heavily, cursed Michael to hell and grabbed his DS from the living room. Switching on _Tetris_ , he made himself comfortable against the cabinets and waited. 

***

And when Ryan stirred an hour later, he turned his head and locked eyes with the boy that he could never forget no matter how much he tried.

“Hey, Ray.”

And Ray smiled, soft and kind.

“Hey, Ryan.”

A familiar name.

Because Ryan didn’t leave Ray that night after he woke up after the angel of death left him behind. 

No, he stayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For some reason, coffee injects inspiration into me and suddenly this story took a slight turn. Hence why the number of chapters was ramped up to 13. Also, this chapter is very short because I wanted to get the plan out of this story out there. I noticed a lot of confusion and it would be cruel and unfair of me to keep this from you. 
> 
> And please listen to my warning. You will have major spoilers revealed to you from this chapter and the next if you have not read this chapter. 
> 
> If you have, click this link if you want to view the plan out on my tumblr: [plan out](http://imaginedecember.tumblr.com/post/104531053329/keee-up-the-streets-empty-for-me-plan-out-of)
> 
> Furthermore, I decided that if any of you have questions, you can make a post on tumblr using this tag: ktsefm (the abbreviation for keep the streets empty for me). I will be tracking this tag on tumblr, posting chapters and answering any questions. I believe that this will keep everything organized and, hopefully, keep the confusion down to a minimum.


	9. interlude 4 (*revised*)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Ray were meant for each other (in some way). Jack and Geoff saw it first (as well as a few others along the way).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  *****This is a revised chapter. The previous one didn't sit well with me so I decided to delete it and write this for interlude 4 instead. I'll come back to Ray and Ryan in the next chapter. The timeline on my tumblr was also revised to fit this change**.

Ray was sure that he never had a childhood. He had security guards with him at public school. They tried to blend in but everyone knew his name. Los Santos was a city of underground crime that had managed to slither its way above ground. The mob bosses and the killers and the petty robbers and every other criminal had a place in Los Santos. It called to them, like a home for the rebels, the ones who never knew what that word meant. 

But Ray wasn’t a rebel. He was some dirt kid, running from life. He played video games, a hobby that wasn’t commonplace. He could snipe damn well. He could throw a punch, get through a fight with a few scrapes but always coming out on top (or at least with his dignity in tact). But he had a last name. He didn’t think that a name was gonna be the thing that threw the final hit. But it was a K.O. A secret weapon. 

But Ryan was a unexpected exception. 

Ryan knew his name but he didn’t think of him as the fucked up product in the line of shining men and even grander women. He saw his flaws and smiled to himself, grabbed him off the shelves and took him home. He didn’t ask anything of him, didn’t question why some nights he was angry, why other nights he was quiet (too silent) and why bad days were more than what he could describe. 

And Ray. 

Ray was the shining, unexpected exception. Like when you think that tomorrow will be foggy. It’ll be dreary. Harsh rain. Always falling. Storms pounding the Earth, grinding you down. But Ray was the unexpected sunny morning after a monsoon. 

Ryan was sure that he had a childhood but memories were all that he had left. Ray was always empty of those things. He didn’t know what it felt like to have glory and for it to be ripped away.

But Ryan never asked Ray about his mother.

“Yeah, I’m not sure I had one. But…”

And how he paused, Ryan just knew. He knew what it felt like to loose someone close to you (would he be downright fucked in the head if he didn’t want Ray to become just another carved name in the streets of his memory?).

In the end, it seemed like both of the boys were fast traveling to an unexpected friendship where Ray knew his name but didn’t flinch at his mask (at the secrets he kept underneath) and where Ryan knew his name too but never once judged him based on his family line (all of those men and women were assholes anyway - Ray was better than all of them, in his own special way). 

They were products of insomniac nights, of flickers of memories, of every seemingly depressing thing. 

But they were sunshine together. 

Geoff and Jack had seen it before anyone else. 

///

(2000)

Jack knew who Ray was a few years before his mother died. He had seen the kid before and after. And if he was gonna be honest, he quite preferred Ray after. The kid may not see it but he had grown into someone that Jack was proud of. He didn’t quite know who he was but he knew he wasn’t a product of his family. A harsh truth to learn but Ray had understood it early. 

Jack was a man of all trades. He dabbled in the underground crime and in the normal world but most importantly, he flew plans and helicopters for anyone willing to pay him a huge sum. That included criminals and their families. 

Ray’s father needed an escape out of Los Santos. There were people hunting for the money he had and the city that he commanded. Jack was usually just told where to fly and when but he knew who were after the Narvaez line. 

Why, Geoff, had been with him for years (take that as you will). And the similarities between him and Ray were astounding. Flying them out the city (and conveniently near one of Geoff’s hideouts) would be the perfect opportunity for them to meet without the blood on their hands or the swirl of police sirens chasing them. Common ground. An introduction without interruption. 

Clipping on his ear piece, Jack smiled to himself as he headed towards his helicopter. “Geoff, you won’t believe this.”

“You got their location? Damn it, I love it when you’re this quick, you know?” Geoff’s voice was wild. He was riding off the high of getting the exact whereabouts of the most sought after mob boss in Los Santos. His fingers were itching for the money, for the crown that would be laid upon his head. Los Santos was his domain. He didn’t care what anyone else said or believed. 

“I know, I know. But you’re gonna love this, Geoff. Trust me.” 

And, yeah, Geoff Ramsey didn’t trust a lot of people. But Jack was his friend, his best friend if he really wanted to dabble into childish terms. The closest of buds. They had driven along every highway and back road of America, stealing and killing. They saw each others crazy side and they were fine with it. They fostered the darkness in their hearts and brought out the shine. 

They took out all of their buried bullshit and didn’t think twice of letting it out. Ever since they met in a shitty gas station somewhere on the East Coast (Geoff was, admittedly, a little too slammed then to remember it - Jack was always the one to put the pieces together for him), both with pistols and an eye on the cash register, they didn’t look back. 

And here they were, having an idle conversation about the shitty and ratty Narvaez family line, one that Jack was gonna shove on Geoff whether he liked it or not. He was gonna like Ray a lot. And it would help that fatherly instinct that Jack knew Geoff had. Every time Geoff had too much whiskey or had stolen far too much moonshine from the back hills, he had ranted and raved about getting a crew. But Jack knew what he meant. 

A family. 

Geoff never had one and Jack was the start. He knew Ray could be the next one but it’d be something that would take years. Jack wasn’t a prophet but he knew that Ray needed to be fostered, molded before he would even agree. And there was the matter of Geoff. Even though his drunken ramblings were more than likely sober thoughts, it might be something that Geoff himself wasn’t ready to admit with words. But the both of them needed that push. Dig the seed in, step back and let it grow. 

“Okay? Well, whatever it is, I hope it’s not crashing them. I want to be the ones that get them.”

“You’ll get them, Geoff.” A pause. “They’re coming now. I’ll remain in contact.” Jack turned down his earpiece until Geoff’s grumbling was a mere whisper in his ear. 

Inhaling deeply, Jack twisted his fingers together to try and stem the nervous energy. It was making him jittery and he needed to focus if this was gonna turn out right. 

Hopping into the front seat of the helicopter, he laid his hands on his lap and frowned as they trembled. Well, this was it. Geoff was either gonna punch him or kiss him and he really fucking hoped it was the latter. 

Chancing a glance out of the glass, he put on a smile when the head boss of the Narvaez line walked towards him, fitted in a suit and shiny shoes. His smile was tight lipped and his concern was evident in the tenseness of his shoulders. His wife was at his side, a gentle hand curled around his bicep. She had honey blonde hair and sweet blue eyes. She was a treasure surrounded by darkness. 

Sighing, Jack shook his head and turned his gaze to Ray. He was barely a teenager, walking slowly behind his parents. He had a DS clutched in his hands and his attention was on its screen instead of his surroundings. Jack didn’t know what to think of that. But he saw a lot of Geoff in him and it made him sad. 

Bowing his head, he plastered on a smile and greeted the Narvaez family. 

He just hoped that all of this wouldn’t turn to shit. 

***

Jack knew everything about Geoff so when he came running into his hideout (an abandoned warehouse with enough floors, hallways and secret doors to leave anyone spinning) with the son of the man that Geoff wanted dead, he knew that Geoff would be pissed. But Geoff was acting like when Jack accidentally got a graze in the shoulder during a robbery that went slightly wrong. This was, essentially, a too hot concoction of adoration, admiration, fear and anger. 

He was doing the pacing thing again, running a tattooed hand through his hair, fucking it up beyond belief. But Geoff really wasn’t focused on his appearance. He was too busy staring at that kid. That fucking kid. It made him sick to his stomach to see a Narvaez in front of him. But he was barely a teenager and Geoff could be cruel but he wasn’t that much of an asshole. 

Finally, he lifted his gaze from the kid to Jack. He was smiling sheepishly at him. He knew that what he did was a wrong move but that it was perfect all the same. Geoff didn’t quite get it. 

“What is he doing here, Jack?” 

His voice was strong but there were cracks. Jack easily wormed his way through the openings and found himself a place to settle in. 

“Ray, here, is going to be a perfect addition.” Geoff rose a single eyebrow at his wording. 

“Going to be?” His mouth twisted as if he tasted something sour. “Perfect addition?” 

Jack glanced at the boy still playing with his DS behind him. Sighing, he hoped that the boy wouldn’t tuck tail and run before he stepped forward, closer to Geoff. The older male struggled to allow the close proximity but Jack was a sweet talker. Always was.

“Look, I know you want a crew and I think that having Ray will be perfect for it. But it’ll take years for him to get to that point.” Jack’s voice was soft and tender. The stupid softy always brought out the mushy side of Geoff, the one that the older male scoffed at. He practically trembled in his skin as he stuck out his tongue in disgust. 

“I said all that?” he managed to choke out. Jack laughed, the sound bouncing off the warehouse walls. Shrugging, he knocked his shoulder into Geoff’s, the older male stumbling just a bit (Jack always managed to shake him up, to leave him twisted). Finally, that crooked smile of his lit up his face and Jack knew he had won. 

Together, they looked at Ray who had now found himself a neat enough corner to sit and play. 

“This kid’s fucked.” Geoff’s smile suddenly slid. “We’re fucked!”

Jack laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing the tension out. Geoff was practically a rag doll as he pouted at the ground. 

“It’s gonna be fine, Captain. Now, let’s get to know him before his parents find out he’s missing.”

“Did you just kidnap a fucking kid?!”

And, yeah, Geoff’s weariness was understandable but that fond look was back in those gorgeous blue eyes of his and Jack knew he did more than win. 

He had patched together the beginnings of a crew.

///

(2002)

Geoff was not an avid watcher of the news but this was the catch of the century. A massacre in the park. An explosion somewhere else (he was barely even listening now).

Frowning, he thought back to how many he had killed. Most were bad people, those who labeled he off as dirt or those whose name alone left a bad taste in his mouth (those who fucked with him were bound to get fucked right back - and harder). But some were innocent. It had taken him years (with Jack’s support) to cope with the nightmares and the images of their hollowed, wide eyed and charred faces. 

He didn’t understand how a man could kill up to twenty (the body count was still questionable) and then have another man set off a bunch of fireworks (accidents weren’t always such these days) and burned who knows how many people. All of them were innocent. Maybe one bad person in the mix. But Geoff didn’t know the statistics of things like that. He just knew that there were too many innocents.

He was floating in his mind until he heard the list of the dead who were discovered and named. 

Her name was a treasure on his tongue.

And the other…the last name of a victim in the park sounded familiar. A well-worn path in a future setting.

Jack laid a hand on his shoulder, his head bowed.

“I didn’t know that this was gonna be what molded the kid.”

“Me either.”

He understood the pain of what was to come. He and Ray were more alike than he dared to admit (but Jack had already known). 

Sitting back in his chair, he chewed on his bottom lip and thought over that last name. He tossed it around his head before he let it escape.

“Haywood.”

Jack rose an eyebrow at him. 

“Him?”

“The angel of death loves tragedies.” 

Geoff was an avid reader so the weird, poetic words were something that Jack chalked up to something that the older male had read. But Geoff knew a lot of things that he wasn’t sure Jack could ever understand. Like who really ran the city and how much some people were willing to chase it. 

“Right.”

Geoff smiled, wicked and crazy.

“He’ll turn up in the criminal world. You just watch.” 

And Jack believed him because, well, a Ramsey never guessed. 

///

(2005)

It was another dark night. Geoff was slamming down the hard stuff, the kind of shit he kept hidden in the back cabinets. 

Jack watched him destroy himself again. 

“Is this about-?”

“Don’t say his name.” 

“He’d be perfect for-.”

“I know.”

And that was all Jack was gonna get out of him. 

///

(2006)

Jack glanced at him as they surveyed the city, riding fast in a Jeep that they saw in a back alley. Geoff had claimed it as his before he even walked up to it. 

“The city’s quiet,” Jack commented. 

And it was. 

A Sunday morning. People were in church, others were sleeping in or hanging about. No one was out walking with skittish steps and a gun plastered to their hip. There hadn’t been any petty or serious crimes as of late. The criminal world was quiet too. 

Geoff shook his head, slamming on the brake. It sent the both of them flying forward but they were used to the ride fast, die hard attitude so they easily caught themselves on the dashboard. Jack watched as Geoff leaned his head out the open window. His ears were trained on something that Jack couldn’t hear. Geoff was simply a marvel. He always wondered if the older male had super powers but he knew he’d be laughed out and dismissed if he ever asked such a crazy thing. 

“Something’s gonna pop the silence.” Geoff held his fingers out, curved them just right in the form of a pistol. He zeroed in on the shadows that were dancing around the city. The darkness had it in its choke hold. It began in 2002. Geoff could taste it then but he had been savoring the flavor. Now was when it was gonna be spit out and sent on the fast track. Just a few more years. “Bam.”

And once again, Jack didn’t question it.

Not until Geoff came running into his apartment in the city, shirt half on and pants undone. 

“Jack, Jack, Jack.” Geoff kept repeating his name like a mantra as he ran around Jack’s apartment like a little kid on a sugar high. Jack simply stared at him wide eyed from the living room before he managed to grab Geoff by the elbow and drag him in. Locking a Ramsey into a personal one by one space was quite the way to get them to settle and submit. They’d do anything, then, to get away. Geoff had gotten used to Jack pulling that trick on him but it still left him bristling. Growling, Geoff tried to move but Jack had his big bear arms around him, squeezing him tight. He could feel the younger male breath against his back and he didn’t like it. Good mood fucking ruined. 

“What is it, Geoffrey?”

Hacking in distaste, Geoff spat out, “Haywood came out of hiding.” Once he admitted what was going on, Jack released him. Geoff pulled down his shirt, dusting it off. Grimacing, he squirmed for a bit before plopping on to the couch. He switched easily to his laid back, good mood. But he certainly would not have gotten there if Jack didn’t force him to speak first. Geoff was good at putting up barriers. He had practically perfect it. But Jack was damn good at melting him. The fucker. 

“So, that’s good right?”

Geoff furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’m not so sure. Fucking idiot wears a mask. Who wears a goddamn mask? Crazies. That’s who.” He almost stumbled over the word ‘crazies’ but he caught himself before he could dwell on how far gone he was. 

Jack sat down beside him, twisting his hands together as he mulled it over.

“Someone whose fucked up? Sounds like a perfect addition,” Jack tried but Geoff wasn’t listening. 

The older male was too busy putting puzzle pieces together and after a few minutes, things suddenly came into focus. He bet he was smiling like Haywood would, all mad and gone, but he was happy that he had come to this conclusion (the only one, he bet). It’d end in tragedy but that was fate’s way of being a bitch, wasn’t it? And it was the only way for this whole thing to end. Clenching his fingers together, he nodded to himself. He was sure that Ryan was a piece (the most important and confusing one).

“Nah, you’re right. He’s good. I’ll try to get him.” Standing abruptly, Geoff ran towards the front door. Jack didn’t wanna know how Geoff was gonna go about that. He’d just be happy to help with the fall out, if there was any. By now, he was used to the older male’s crazy antics. 

“You do that, Geoff. Also button your fucking pants. Don’t want that to be the first impression you give.”

A warmhearted chuckle and the sound of a zipper was the only sound accompanying the slam of the apartment door. 

***

Haywood was a supposed mad man but not as fucking crazy and stupid as Gavin. 

Geoff had found out about Gavin before he had gone to Jack’s to tell him about Haywood. He had taken the opportunity when it was presented to him to kill two birds with one stone. He’d get Gavin and in the process, snag Haywood. Perfect.

And finding Gavin was pretty easy in the worse way possible. See, a criminal was known because of his actions, possibly his words. But they weren’t known because they were too goddamn stupid to cover their own tracks. Gavin was infamous for that. 

But when Geoff found a child cowering in the corner, shrinking into his body to shield him from the shadows (both external and internal) in a parking garage, he had to hold himself back from picking him up and bringing him to his home. Damn fatherly instincts. 

The boy’s eyes were blurry and glossy. They didn’t quite focus on Geoff as he bent down in front of him. He didn’t startle when he saw a Ramsey. It was a tell tale sign that the boy was new, fresh and he was more foolish than anyone else coming into crime. The boy needed a goddamn parent to hold his hand if he was gonna outlive any of this. 

And, Geoff, well, he was stupid enough himself to be the one to do it. 

Crouching low, he moved until he was shielding the boy completely from whatever was out there in the world beyond him. The boy’s whimpers were sad as well as pathetic. He wasn’t strong enough for this. Geoff was worried he was never going to be. 

The boy was emotionally stunted, didn’t know how to handle its fire. He kept getting burned. Geoff knew the look. He had seen it in himself, in everyone around him. But they were usually better at hiding it and coping with it. This boy, though, was the worse case he had seen. 

“Hey.” Geoff tried to keep his voice soothing, like a gentle rumble of thunder. The boy’s shoulders shook once, twice before settling. He breathed out deep before clutching on to Geoff’s jacket. Startled, Geoff almost fell forward at the sheer force of the boy’s grip but his hands caught the wall behind them, keeping him balanced and steady. 

“Is…are they…gone?” The accent punched Geoff right in the face and almost knocked him out on his ass. A lanky, stupid, fucking British kid. What did he get himself into?

“Depends who ’they’ are.” He narrowed his eyes as he chanced a glance over his shoulder. Nothing was stirring, just the swinging overhead tractor beams of light. “If it’s the cops, you’re lucky. I covered your tracks. You really need to learn that if you’re gonna kill, you’re gonna have to not leave your shoes behind.” 

As Geoff rambled, the boy’s eyes become more and more clear. His body suddenly came to life and Geoff thanked his lucky stars that despite his age and the weight of life, he was still quicker than a kid who bolted from tense situations like a baby deer. 

Grabbing the back of the boy’s blue button down shirt, he dragged him across the ground, smearing his shirt and tearing the buttons. The boy whined at the grim that he was practically swimming in. But he stayed put. Just in case, though, Geoff straddled his back, growling underneath his breath at the little forms of struggle. The kid was exhausted and Geoff was done. 

“Just…let me go, please.” He still tried to plead, to wrap his words around an intoxicating accent that kind of left Geoff’s head swimming. But he wasn’t a girl. And he wasn’t gonna get pulled into his tricks. Shoving the boy’s head down, he smiled when he choked on a piece of dirt. 

“Listen, asshole, I should’ve let yourself get killed by the cops. Should’ve let them take you in. Maybe that would’ve taught you a little something,” Geoff threatened. 

The boy spat out specks of dirt before speaking. “Wasn’t the bloody cops! Was…someone in a mask? Didn’t catch it right.”

And, suddenly, just like that Geoff was intrigued. 

He stood up, hauling the kid up with him. Slamming the younger male into the nearest wall, he shoved an arm into his throat, knocking his jaw up so he could see straight into his eyes. They were most certainly clear now, if a bit strong in their glare. 

“A mask you say? Don’t usually see those around Los Santos. Care to explain?”

He wanted to hear more about this Haywood fellow, of what he was capable of. He didn’t wanna toy with someone who wasn’t mentally present. That wouldn’t be good for his safety or Jack’s or, fuck, for a crew. 

“I don’t know? He’s a bloody lunatic and kept chasing me.” The pressure on the boy’s throat increased by a sliver. 

“Where was he last?” Geoff demanded. 

“At the park!”

Letting the boy slide down the wall, Geoff clicked on his ear piece. Jack’s voice was already coming through. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

He trusted Jack to get the kid and look after him while he talked to Haywood but he didn’t necessarily trust the kid to go along with it. Crouching down in front of the boy, he sighed, heavy and drawn out. 

“Listen, you’re gonna be dead if you keep running like this.” Dragging a hand down his face, he scratched through his beard and shook his head. “You remind me a lot of myself. Thinking I was invincible and could run from everything. But you can’t do that for long. All I’m asking is you give up for a bit, go with my friend and he’ll take care of you.” When the boy’s eyes hardened, he frowned. “Not gonna kill you, buddy.”

“It’s Gavin.” It was spat out like a curse. 

“Geoff.” Knocking the boy’s shoulder into the wall, he stood up from the ground. “I hate to speak to you like a dog, Gavin, but stay.”

With that command said, Geoff began walking out of the parking garage. He didn’t have much time to waste with a kid who wouldn’t listen to him. He just hoped that Gavin somehow, someway had enough sense to let it sink in that he wasn’t made for the streets and that he was gonna die alone. He wasn’t strong enough for it. But who was he kidding? Gavin would rather shoot himself then admit anything along those lines. God, what was Geoff doing again? He was running around in circles and he was lost.

But he had to keep going. 

For them. 

***

He didn’t need face recognition software to know which one was Haywood. 

He was pacing in a similar way of Geoff’s, burning paths in the grass. There was an energy building in him, a darkness. It shook and trembled as it reached out to grab Geoff by the soul and reel him in. Geoff, possibly stupidly, listened to its siren call. 

“Hey, Haywood, got a second?”

The pacing abruptly stopped. 

The blue storm that snapped to attention to meet his own gaze was something that almost left Geoff breathless, if he had not seen that same storm in his own eyes reflected back in a cracked and broken gas station mirror. 

“What?” The man’s voice was gruff and strained as if he had been spending countless nights awake, dancing between the darkness and the light. Geoff wanted to ground him but he didn’t know how. 

“Listen, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a bit.”

But he didn’t fool Haywood. Not for a single second.

“You’re a Ramsey. Geoff, right?” The man didn’t even stutter his name. It seemed that he had ingrained it into his brain. 

“Yes, that would be me.” A calm smile came easy. “And you’re a Haywood.” The man’s blue eyes shimmered in the sun above them. They narrowed and zeroed in on a part of Geoff’s soul that he didn’t ever want to be seen. 

“First name basis depends on what you want.” This dude didn’t fuck around and Geoff liked that in a person. Shrugging, he dug his hands in his pockets and watched as the younger male flinched backwards. Smart. 

“Just a talk. From one criminal to another.” 

Haywood seemed to relax with every word. Geoff would never dare to judge him on the actions that he too committed. And it was odd to believe but the younger male didn’t seem to be the kind of killer who killed whoever and whenever. He seemed to be in control. Geoff could use that (especially if he was gonna reign in the other boys - dear God knows that they needed control). 

“It’s James. On the streets at least.” Something seemed to snap as James stepped back into Geoff’s personal space. He smiled, just a half tilt but it was enough to get Geoff smiling back, just as soft and small. This was a meeting of a killer to a killer. A similar hobby was enough to jump start a friendship. 

“James is fine. For now.” It was a warning but James took it in stride. Nodding, he resumed his gaze to the beautiful park around them. Geoff wasn’t used to being surrounded in nature. He found beauty in other things. But he could understand the appreciation for it.

“Okay, I’m ready for that talk.”

James didn’t even hesitate as he found his favorite park bench and sat down. Geoff sat down beside him and relaxed against the old, creaking wood. It was peaceful here but Geoff remembered the tragedy that had disrupted it. 

In his peripherals, he kept a sharp eye on James but his eyes were lit with a strange kind of tranquility. He knew what had happened. He replayed it every second of the day. But he was recognizing it as an event in the past. He wanted to change it and he’d spend years shaming himself over it but it was a part of the past, no matter how much he wanted to spin the clock around.

He wondered if Ray understood the same thing. 

He wondered if they could understand together. 

Smiling knowingly to himself, Geoff took in everything that was Ryan and knew, in his heart, that he’d be the perfect compliment to Ray and an even better start to their tragic ending.


	10. interlude 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray goes mad. Ryan tries to help with the fall out. It’s white, gray and black with a bit of blue in the beginning but red at the end.
> 
> ///
> 
> Or the five months Ray and Ryan spent together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have spent weeks writing each little part, deleting them and then writing them again. I think this final product sits right for me. I hope it is just as good for you.

Ray had been seeing flashes of blue and gray in his nightmares and in his dreams. 

He wasn’t drunk but damn was he feeling like he was. Dizzy. Hallucinations. He was lost. 

Stumbling down the street, blue and gray flashes drew him in like a siren song to the diner that he frequented with Michael. 

God, he must have looked like absolute shit. Scruff going crazy. Eyes red (gray underneath). Mouth chapped and dry. Body starving (for drink, for food, for answers). 

He slid into the booth across from the object of the colors that had been following him around. 

The man had a dark gray skeleton mask sitting next to him, blue eyes turned on high. Broad shoulders. Muscular. If Ray wasn’t drowning, he’d say that the man was handsome. But he was probably imagining the encounter. Because there was no way this was who was watching him (wrong terms - he didn’t feel like it was done wrongly or creepily - protecting). 

“Hey, stalker.”

Ray decided to be blunt and take a page in Michael’s book. Shred it up and fly. 

The man’s blue eyes honed on his soul, sinking in, creating a home there. Ray wasn’t sure if he was allowed to knock on the door or go right in.

“Not stalking.” The man carded his fingers through his sparse beard, tugging at the hairs before that pondering look was gone and in its place a burning honesty that seemed to light Ray’s nerves on fire. But he didn’t like flames. And he didn’t want to get burned. But this handsome stranger was shoving him into the fire. “More like watching out for you.”

He was sure in his words. His accent (a southern one - couldn’t place the exact region) carved the words into something drawn out, deep and guttural. Ray felt like was a smoldering building collapsing from the damage to its structure. In fact, he was literally tipping over in his seat. He managed to catch himself when his vision swam. Slamming a hand on to the table, he hauled himself up until he was siting straight again. The stranger watched him with narrowed eyes. Scrutinizing. 

“Guess my, uh, duties didn’t really help the insomnia, huh?”

He was teasing, being cute. Ray didn’t like the way it swam hot in his belly. 

“No.” Then, in quick fire succession, Ray crumbled. “Who in the fuck are you? Are you working with my father? Because if you are, I could fucking kill you. Easy.” It was an empty threat and the man across from him knew it. He wore a goddamn mask. Fucker had crazy running through his veins. He slept and breathed in darkness like he was starving for it. 

“Ray.” It was a whisper of his name. 

Ray tried to forget how it made him shiver. 

But he tried to forget a lot of things.

But the memories were stuck in his brain.

And he couldn’t fucking get them out. Why couldn’t they just fucking leave him the hell alone already?

“Hey, Ray, you’re shaking.”

And he was.

He was trembling hard like a drug addict on withdrawal. But what was he craving so bad that his body was thrumming with the need to get it? He wanted answers first and foremost. 

Geoff wanted him in his crew. He remembered when he met him. He was young but he was sharp. They thought he couldn’t hear him. They thought he couldn’t understand their words, their future intentions. But why?

His mother was dead. Caught in the whiz of a rocket. But why?

Michael was hiding shit from him. He was antsy with it. Ray saw it every day, how it gnawed on his very soul. It was poisoning his heart. Ray knew it was soft and lovely but it was growing dark. It was all consuming. But why? And what was it that he couldn’t say out loud? 

This man here across from him wanted to protect him. But from what? And who in gods name carried a fucking mask with them? A serial killer claiming to be a savior. Who knew there could ever be such a thing? 

Why was he so damn special?

He didn’t even realize that there were tears rushing hot down his cheeks. Scrubbing his skin with the end of his hoodie sleeve, he rose from the booth. But he was mad in his delusions and lack of sleep so it was easy for the man to grab him and pull him in (pull him under). 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.”

His voice was like a lullaby, spinning around his brain and settling in. It eased the rushing beat of his heart and it stabbed the fog in his mind. He could see clearly. Blinking the wetness from his eyelashes, he chanced a glance around him. There were no customers, barely a waitress. No one was watching them. He didn’t feel their eyes on him. 

Sighing heavily, he inched closer to the man who had his arms wrapped tight around his body (would he dare to say he was shielding him? - and, god, another question without an answer - he was getting too impatient for this to continue on much longer). 

Something slid along the table top. A mask slid over his face. 

It was peaceful under its weight. The man secured it on his head as best he could. It still slid around but Ray liked its weight, liked what it meant. 

“There. You look fucking ridiculous, though.”

And his high pitched giggle was far too sweet, straight from the south, straight from the tap. 

He couldn’t even say his thanks before the man placed both of his hands (large and strong) on his shoulders, pushing him forward gingerly to get him walking out of the diner. 

“Look, you’re in no state to be going back home. Maybe you should come over?”

It was an odd proposition from someone that he had labeled a possible stalker in training. Ray wasn’t sure if he should feel inclined to listen to him. The man was too much like a gentleman. He almost felt like he should listen and agree but he wasn’t sure. 

The man carried a mask. He wore it probably when he took someone’s last breath. It was his shield from the stirring darkness that Ray couldn’t see. The man could easily slice his neck. Especially in the shriveled and messed up state he himself was in. 

“My name’s Ryan. If that helps your decision.” The man seemed to pause, thinking over what would convince Ray. “I won’t kill you if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll honestly probably head right to bed and you can sleep on my couch. I have video games.” The man seemed to know what trick to pull because Ray was now begging to go to this man’s apartment. 

Video games and a different environment? It felt all too good. Video games at his apartment was starting to turn into a mad house. He needed a change of scenery. And if he was going to be killed, at least he’d get his gamerscore up a bit before dying. That would make his upcoming death alright to him. Of course he wouldn’t get the answers he wanted but, hey, life was never fair. He’d take what he could get before he went.

“Okay.”

The world was silent as the answer echoed through the empty streets. 

Ryan didn’t make another sound as he helped Ray into his car and drove him to his apartment. 

Ray didn’t pay attention to the ride up nor did he even glance at the inside of the apartment. He just went straight for the couch and laid down. Ryan smiled at him, almost fond, as he set up his Xbox for him. Handing his controller to the boy, he gave pause (almost wishing he could suddenly come up with the right words) before he turned towards his bedroom. 

But Ray’s voice made him stop. “You forgot your mask.” It was one of the first things he had said in a while. Ryan glanced over his shoulder, taking in the fact that Ray had slipped the mask off. Even in the darkness, his eyes seemed to shine. 

“Nah.” And Ryan smiled, this time less fond and more blindingly honest. “It suits you better anyway.”

Ray didn’t know how to take his words but Ryan was gone before he could say anything else. 

/

Neither of them knew it wasn’t gonna be easy to fall into a pattern. 

Their nights drifted in a radiant. Gray, white, black. And neither of them had good days when the other was floating in white. 

But at the end, there was a new color added. Red. Everything was red. 

But it began with white.

***

It felt like being transported to a whole different world when he was in Ryan’s apartment. 

He could relax here, didn’t have to check under the couch or beneath the bed for monsters. He didn’t think of who he was then and who he was now. He could just be. And that was, oddly, what he had wanted. Ryan’s apartment was the perfect brew. It was sweet going down his throat and settled heady and warm in his belly. He didn’t want to ever leave and he knew that it was pushing the boundaries of whatever this was that they were tangled up in. 

But Ryan seemed to accept him with open arms. Ray wanted to break the comfortable silence with the question that had burning his tongue for what felt like weeks but he didn’t want to pop the safety shield. But that was the thing about Ryan. He just seemed to know Ray better than the younger male could even describe himself. 

“I don’t mind if you just come over unannounced or stay the night or whatever you want.” The words came out a bit tight in a slight stutter. 

Ryan wasn’t one who was good at words even though he knew more meanings and uses than Ray could ever hope to know. It was odd quirk but Ray always found it amusing when Ryan couldn’t get out what he wanted and just gave up. It ended up in some amazingly entertaining moments. And Ray cherished them, held them close, like he held everything else about Ryan.

And that was another thing about this weird dance between them. It didn’t have a label and Ray wanted to keep it that way. This was freeing. And he never thought he’d get to taste what freedom was. But Ryan was addicting.

“I get it, Ryan.” Ray couldn’t help but smile, a crack in the armor (it wasn’t something he knew how to do anymore - his lips felt stuck in a perpetual downcast). “I’ll definitely take up your offer.” Stretching his arms over the couch, he groaned underneath his breath when his back popped and his limbs ached at the movement. He had spending way too much time on Ryan’s couch. The older male himself when in the armchair in the corner, curled up with a book and glasses set on the table next to a diet coke. It was all of his likes in one setting and Ray wondered if he would ever be able to slip in and find a home there. He’d think he would like the smell of Ryan, tattered books and fizzy coke. 

Shaking his head, he let those thoughts ride out their last wave before they were tucked away. Turning his focus back to the television screen, he gripped the controller just that much harder and started another match of Tetris. Ryan watched the twitch of his muscles and knew the conversation was closed. Ray was in his element and would he be weird to be oddly prideful of that?

He hadn’t spent much time with Ray outside the apartment. Just at the markets, the diner and the other’s apartment so he could drop him off. He hadn’t been with him to those secret places, the ones that Ray felt at home in or was afraid of.

A hollow sadness stirred up in his chest as he thought of getting to know the younger male outside of his apartment. His apartment had become a safe house for the both of them. And he wanted to get to see Ray outside of it. He wanted to know how the younger male glued to his couch was inside the shadows and out. 

But then, he wrangled those thoughts back. No, he wanted to stay in his apartment where Ray was sunshine. He warmed his apartment, made it someplace special for Ryan to come home to. And it seemed far too lonely without the younger male hanging around. He wanted him in his bed, underneath him. He wanted to see him under the light of the hazy morning sun. He didn’t want to his face shrouded in the darkness that followed Ryan around like a fucking disease. 

He didn’t want to him cry, didn’t want to see him truly angry, didn’t want to see him give up and be done. He didn’t want to see him slip away from his fingers. And he knew the streets of Los Santos was a poisonous cocktail of every worse emotion possible. He didn’t want to see Ray get lost in it, didn’t want to see that golden sun that he knew was harbored somewhere deep to be put out.

And Ryan didn’t want to be the one to snuff the flame. 

“You thinking hard over there?” Ray’s voice came through like a searchlight. Ryan didn’t know that he had been scrambling to find it. Catching it, he didn’t care that it burned his fingers, that it gnawed at his flesh and seared his bones because his heart was pumping. He didn’t even think that it had a beat. 

“Yeah.” Ryan’s voice was rough as if he hadn’t drank something in hours, days. Clearing his throat, he sent the book in his lap down on the side table. Rising from the chair, he checked the screen to see Ray had paused his game. And it was weird how his heart swelled at that. Ray didn’t pause games. He ran in and he seemed to never stop. And when he would rest, he’d either take a trip to the bathroom or switch games, take a breath, depending on what he felt. He was impatient in that way, stubborn too. “Is there multiplayer?”

Ray’s ears almost didn’t catch it. Playing with the bumpers, Ray scooted down the couch a bit, making room for the older male. Handing the other male the extra controller at his feet, he tried not to sit rigid on the couch. 

But this was a turning point. 

The two men had been spending time together but had done their own separate things. Ryan cooked, read, cleaned his guns and his mask and Ray played video games. They only commented on the games Ray was playing or what Ryan was reading or cooking. Neither strayed too far into the weapons or the mask. And Ryan certainly didn’t say anything when Ray appeared at his door once with his hot pink sniper rifle in hand. It was like Ryan’s apartment had become a place where the heavy stuff was left alone and put aside. It was like they could see the darkness swirling around certain objects and backed away out of fear or something else. 

But this was a turning point. 

Ryan was jumping into Ray’s world. 

And Ray wasn’t sure where he fit. Didn’t know to where to go from his words to actually hitting play on the screen. But Ryan was there, ready to catch him. And he didn’t know how but this was a trust fall and Ray had never felt bliss like this. It was a struggle to allow it but he was yearning for it. And he didn’t know that Ryan had been the all inclusive package but Ray wanted to pay millions just to keep it tied up in his mind, in his heart.

“Don’t be too mean. I don’t fucking play Tetris religiously like you do,” Ryan commented. His words were so soft. Ray wanted to curl up into his side, use his bad hearing as an excuse. But he moved on from that and just relaxed into the back of the couch. Starting up the match, he smirked to himself as he schooled Ryan hard. When the end hit them fast, Ryan nearly threw his controller at the television screen. Running a hand through his golden hair, he bit his lip and went back into the game. He was even more determined now to at least be a bit better then the previous first attempt. 

“You play like poop, dude.” The jab wasn’t sharp but it did twist Ryan’s mouth up into an odd smile. Ray didn’t think that insults usually had the outcome of a smile and he was confused as to why. Ryan continued to baffle him as he leaned into the back of the couch, relaxing and sighing easy and soft under his breath as he fell into a pattern of trying harder each time. Really, it was just to help his own ego. Ray was the best and he knew it would take months to even get to his level. So, he was content with getting better at his own score. 

It seemed like competition was something that Ryan enjoyed. All the older male needed was a jab in the gut and he was off, perfecting what he couldn’t do well at all. Ray was practically astounded and his eyes widened even more when another match ended and Ryan had won. The controller practically slipped from his fingers.

“How-?” he tried but Ryan was whooping at his victory. He shook his hips all the way to the kitchen where he happily fell back into step with something he knew more of. Quick puzzles weren’t his strong suit. He liked to dwell on things, let them sink in, and his mind was racing from trying to catch up. Making dinner for the two of them would ease him back. That was not to say that he didn’t enjoy getting to see Ray in his element up close and schooling him a bit in the last round. 

“Suck that, Ray!”

And poor little Ray was struck dumb on Ryan’s couch. Of course, he knew he was shit at games so he doesn’t expect to win all the time. But he didn’t think that Ryan would shine like that. His personality had so many cracks and cliffs that Ray knew he was soaring happily over them and crashing into the earth below. He didn’t care if he died because damn, he wanted to know Ryan in every way.

He wanted to see that smile again, wanted to see the older male exude confidence as he leaned back and took over the game. It was a fucking hot too, if Ray was going to continue on this discovery path.

This was a turn. It was quick time event but Ray had researched and knew his decision before he even got to the choice screen. 

He wanted Ryan to find a place in his world.

And he wanted to be a part of Ryan’s. 

***

Ray came over to Ryan’s again but this time in sweat pants, a tank top, a worn out hoodie and a beanie shoved over his messy hair. Yawning, he dragged himself into the apartment, twirling the key that Ryan had given him. 

“Ryan?” he called but the silence just echoed his voice. Frowning, Ray checked the clock in the kitchen. It was only eleven and he didn’t know Ryan’s sleeping habits but it was certainly early for sleeping. Moving towards the hallway, Ray slid his hands along the walls before they knocked into a doorframe. Knocking on Ryan’s bedroom door, the frown on his face slipped even further down his face when he didn’t hear anything stir on the other side.

Twisting the doorknob, he remained as still as he could be as he peeked into the room. Ryan was in the middle of the bed, covers thrown over top of him like he didn’t have enough time to cover himself properly from the chill of the apartment before he slipped away.

Something fond cracked its way through and Ray found himself slipping into the room. Hovering by the side of the bed, he bit his lip before kneeling on the soft covers and leaning down so he could see Ryan’s face properly. Blue eyes stared back at him, their beauty somehow more astounding in the dark.

“Hey.” Ryan’s voice was like gravel and it cracked right through to Ray’s heart. A straight shot. Blinking, Ray tried to shake the way it sunk in deep and carved a pit in his chest but he could barely breathe. 

Ryan reached out a hand, an offering. And Ray took it. 

“Sorry. I just…” And for once, Ray felt like Ryan. The words were taffy in his mouth and no matter how much he chewed on them, he couldn’t loosen the sticky bonds.

“Nah.” Shaking his head, Ryan pulled him in and Ray drifted. A sailor crawling to the shore, to home. 

Ray couldn’t help but smile, soft and half lit with something that neither of them wanted to dwell on for too long. He crawled the rest of the way on the bed, wiggling around a bit before he was resting on his right side. He faced Ryan this way and he could watch his blue eyes take everything about him in and keep it. 

“Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome, Ray.” 

And the two of them slipped away like that, sinking into the warmth of each other and finding that, yeah, it was much better like this. 

//

Gray days were like playing Russian roulette. It was black and white mixed together but on some days, they couldn’t bend. And on others, all they could do was swim in it and let the current take them over.

This time around, they took a break from hanging out with each other and focused on things outside of the bubble they created.

Ray had spent time with Michael and had gotten a visit from an angel. Ryan, unbeknownst to him, had a visit from an angel too.

***

Ray ran to the diner downtown to meet Michael. As soon as he slid into the booth across from the older boy, he was off on a topic that Ray never wanted him to pick out. But Michael was smart. And Ray was pathetically pathetic. 

He chose a gray day to talk to Michael. It was the worst decision because Michael was always on point and even more stubborn when Ray was hovering in the middle.

“Ray, I don’t mean to alarm you but you’re bathing in pink. And not that kind.” 

Michael wasn’t fucking around even though his words were crude and sexual in nature. 

And Ray, well, he was lost. 

Because he couldn’t tell Michael about Ryan. What would Michael fucking think if he was crushing on an infamous masked serial killer? And Michael ran with a goddamn crew. He was a criminal himself. He’d know exactly who Ryan was. 

And Ryan wasn’t one to kill innocent people but would Michael understand that? Especially after their little heart to heart yesterday, Ray knew Ryan wasn’t like that no matter how much he made himself look it. He knew the man had a heart somewhere. He was still human. More than anything, Ray believed that Ryan did it because he wanted the money and the outlet it gave him.

But It was a pointless argument, he knew. He sounded like he was trying to convince Michael that he wasn’t a part of the criminal underground. He didn’t kill anyone. He just took pot shots (he tried to forget about that lady across the street - but someday she’ll reappear as a nightmare). He only had ties because he was a mob boss’s son but his father was gone so he didn’t have a reason to even be mentioned in the passing conversations of the criminals of Los Santos. 

But his connection with Ryan might as well have made him queen (and, no, he didn’t just think of Ryan in a kilt right then - or calling him ‘king’).

It was all of a sudden, though, that Ray remembered a very important detail.

Ryan didn’t go by his middle name on the streets. Ray could still talk about him and Michael would never know because he’ll never bring up the name James. 

Yeah, he could do this.

“Just someone I met.”

Yeah, no, he couldn’t do this. 

Hanging his head, he hurriedly began scooting out of the booth. Michael watched him with wide eyes and a befuddled stare but before Ray could even book it across the diner, he was grabbing his arm and hauling him back to the table. 

“Sit.”

Ray sat back in the booth with a heavy sigh. Michael slammed his hands on the table, rattling their cups of soda and old silverware. 

“Who?” 

“Just…someone named Ryan. You don’t know him.” Ray made sure to force that last bit out, make sure it was spoken heavily so Michael wouldn’t question him. But the older male was sharp. 

“Really? I bet I do.” He narrowed his eyes, staring at Ray for what seemed to be minutes. Holding his hands up, Ray glared straight back. 

“I’m not some kid. I got this. If he was a fucking killer or whatever, I’d know.” And it wasn’t really a lie. Ray did know. He just didn’t care which made him sound mentally insane. A life of crime and running from the cops. He bet his father would be loving this right now. 

“And you’d get out, right?” Michael’s words took on a darker spin. Ray knew that Michael was honest ninety percent of the time but that lonely ten percent was getting pretty damn thin. Ray wondered just how long it’d be until it snapped completely. Well, whatever, he’d be there, helping with the fallout (he wouldn’t ever leave Michael like that). 

“Yes, Michael.” He wanted to play dirty, to bite back and mention the one thing that Michael had talked about once but never brought up since then. But it was a low blow and he didn’t want Michael decking him in the jaw in the middle of their favorite diner. He wanted to be able to come back to the place (with Ryan, someday). 

“Okay, good.” Crossing his arms across his chest, Michael remained silent before delving into the recent video game that he was having trouble with. Ray thanked whoever above for the distraction and the end of the conversation. God, they were pathetic. Pathetically pathetic. Well, at least they’d go down together. In flames. 

***

After the diner, they headed to the store before they needed to part ways. They had made their purchases when Ray stopped in the middle of the street.

“Ah, man I got fucking gypped!” Michael hooked his chin over Ray’s shoulder, frowning at the red and black stripped packet of cigarettes and gum that were tightly clenched in his hands. 

“Wanna take him out?” When Ray glowered at him, Michael backed away from him and shrugged his shoulders. “Look, man,-.”

“No.” It was defiant and it sounded much too harsh for the polluted air of downtown Los Santos. A narrowed look. Then, Ray turned on his heel and headed for his apartment. Michael wanted to follow him but he had more pressing matters to attend to. 

Like what in the fuck happened exactly for a certain infamous serial killer’s cigarettes to end up in Ray’s hands.

***

Michael was smart so he had made some guesses. And what he came to made him want to puke. 

He had shoved everything that had happened aside to go be a bodyguard with Ray to smother his own feelings of shame. And look at what that stupid fuck was doing now? Fooling around with a serial killer. Jesus christ. But he guessed he wasn’t doing much better (but he didn’t really wanna go down memory lane and how nice and warm tattooed fingers felt against his skin and in his hair - yeah, no, he wasn’t drunk enough for the hard shit yet). 

So, he instead made a sweet proposition to Geoff that would hit that soft, squishy side of him. 

Yeah, offering to get into contact with a serial killer to convince him to be the sixth member of a crew was his best bet yet to end all of this lying. He was sick of the bullshit (including his own). 

And Geoff, just like he knew he would, simpered at the idea. The whiskey was warm going down his throat. Honey sweet. Michael was always the best at propositions. 

“Of course, kid. We can do that. Just, uh, get that friend of yours and this killer dude and we’re all set? Six members. What a dream.”

It was more like a nightmare but Michael didn’t wanna go into depth. He took his cue to leave, spun on his heel and walked out the door. 

Jack laid a heavy hand on Geoff’s shoulder but he didn’t squeeze. 

Geoff slammed the glass down hard on the table. 

“We’re fucked.”

And there wasn’t a truer statement ever said. 

***

Ray didn’t really think over what he was carrying or that Michael would recognize the infamous cancer sticks that littered the death scene of a notorious masked killer. He just counted his lucky stars that Michael didn’t ask him why he had begun chewing on ice mountain gum (it never compared to the way Ryan’s eyes chilled him to the core and lit him asunder) and not his usual cinnamon. 

As if that would be the thing that would give him away.

***

After feeling high off of getting away (ignorance was bliss), Ray clambered on to the roof. Startled, he nearly dropped his sniper rifle when his eyes caught a familiar face across the street. His footsteps echoed through his memory as the man walked to the fire escape.

“Ray? Can I come up?”

The man was still the same. He was still a sweetheart, more sweet than a damn sugar cube. Smiling to himself, Ray gingerly laid his sniper rifle against the lip of the roof. 

“Yeah,” Ray answered. Turning his head, he smile grew wide as the bear of a man clambered up the fire escape and on to the roof. Ray practically ran to him, heading straight into open arms. His hugs were always warm and brain melting. 

“Hey, kid, how are you?” His big paws for hands settled on Ray’s back, puling him in for an even tighter hug. 

“I’m good, Jack. How’s life in the underground?” Ray questioned. Breaking the hug, he moved to sit down on the roof, next to his sniper rifle. Jack sat down across from him, running a hand through his beard in thought.

“It’s been good. Got a crew now.” Ray tilted his head to the side before everything clicked.

“With Michael, right? I’m pretty sure he’s mentioned someone of your description.” Jack’s smile was tight and tense. 

“Yeah.” Shaking his head, he continued, “Listen, Ray, Geoff knows every single one of you. He knows whose gonna be in our crew.”

“Does that include me?” Ray questioned. Toying his fingers together, he kept his eyes locked on his gun and not on the man across from him. 

He had heard Geoff’s name plenty of times. Michael never got that Ray had connections too. He knew every mob boss, every child, every mistress, every fucked up situation. So, yeah, he knew Geoff. 

The Ramsey’s were a family of outlaws. They were professionals in what they did and there was a constant rift between them and Ray’s father. They were competing for the city. His father wanted to get the upper hand (looking back, Ray should have known what it was). But then his wife died. And Geoff’s family skipped off (or died, Ray never wanted to bring it up). 

Geoff and Ray were left on their own. Geoff turned to the criminal underground while Ray remained above ground, hiding out in the city. It seemed like Geoff had continued to make a name for himself. He was like his father, getting himself a crew together. But Geoff was always far more superior than his predecessors. No one would be able to compete with the Ramsey brand, that power that the name alone held. 

If Ray was going to be a part of that…god, he didn’t wanna know. It wasn’t that he never wanted to join the crew (he knew Geoff had a target locked on him since day one - he always could see something in Ray that was vastly different from what his father was). He just felt like that there’d be no reason for him to be an asset. He could snipe. That was it. And he could throw a mean punch. Maybe use his small weight to his advantage. But other then that, he was worthless. It was hard to understand what Geoff saw him in but it was even harder to disobey.

Eventually, he knew he’d have to cave. But until then, he’d milk his independence and freedom a little bit more. 

“Yeah and..” Jack’s words snapped Ray back to reality. Turning his head, he finally met the man’s eyes only to see a storm reflecting back at him. Jack radiated uncertainty but he trudged on. “And Ryan.”

Ray could barely even breathe as the words settled in and held on. 

He didn’t know how Jack knew him or how the older male had known that Ryan was sticking to him. But if he thought about it hard enough, it would be the best for Ryan. The man needed direction and more people to turn to when he needed it. He needed distractions in the form of friendships. And he’d be such an asset to the crew, both as friends and on missions. 

But he didn’t know where he himself fit.

The crew, eventually, with having five total members, would be able to take on bigger heists and more missions. It would become a twenty four seven kind of thing with some hours in between to get your brain back on level ground. He didn’t want to loose Michael. And he most certainly didn’t want to loose Ryan. He was selfish. Shame was a frigid feeling. But loneliness was crippling. 

“I need to go.” Ray stood up abruptly, grabbing his sniper rifle. Tucking it its carrier pouch that was swung around his back, he glanced at Jack one more time. 

The man was watching him with a smile. It was fond and bursting with pride. Ray didn’t understand why anyone would try to look at him like he was on a pedestal. A pedestal for Hell, probably. Other than that, though? No. 

Shaking his head, he frowned and jumped down to the fire escape and to the streets below.

***

Ray didn’t quite know how Jack knew Ryan and more importantly, knew that the masked man was hanging out with him but Jack had known for a while. It took a trip to the man’s apartment to seal the deal. 

***

Jack had turned up at Ryan’s apartment unannounced but it was always best to catch the older male off guard. 

He wouldn’t have time to hide.

Ryan stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. His scruff was getting out of hand, eyes a bit black around the edges and his hair long and tangled. He was wearing a black tank top and sweat pants, a pistol cocked in hand. 

Sighing heavily, he shoved the safety back on and set it on the kitchen counter. Jack frowned as he took a seat on Ryan’s couch. Something was different about the atmosphere of the place. It had lost its darkness. He didn’t feel he couldn’t stay long. And he knew why. But he wondered if Ryan had allowed himself to dwell on it.

“How’s everything Jack?”

Ryan tried to be casual but he was shaking.

Jack caught on easily.

“Good on my end. How are you and Ray?”

Ryan swung his arms around, his mouth twisting up ugly and marred before he bowed his head and gave in.

“We’re both good. Really good actually.” 

Jack’s smile was wide and bright like he had just won the lottery. And he practically did because getting anything out of Ryan was like pulling teeth when he tried to get anything out of Gavin.

“You guys are really cute together.” Ryan’s eyes were comical as they widened. “Geoff’s words,” Jack added. His chuckle was deep in his chest as Ryan seemed to sink into the floor.

“Great,” he grumbled, the words long and drawn out.

“Hey, that means we approve. We have for a while.” Jack shrugged at Ryan’s questioning look as he stood up from the couch. “Well, I have to go before Geoff starts whining about my absence.”

Ryan tried to make the conversation as light and happy as Jack had made it but he was loosing his damn mind. Jack was gone before Ryan could even think of a single word.

It seemed like everyone knew his story but he really didn’t want Ray to figure it out.

He didn’t want to see Ray cry, see him angry.

He didn’t want to be the one to snuff the flame. 

But he knew his role.

He knew his ending.

And he didn’t like the final chapter.

///

Black days were saturated. 

For Ray, he hiked it up to the roof, sniper rifle cradled tightly in his hands as if the hot pink weapon would somehow ground him or shoot him back into white, back with the stars above. Ray wasn’t a killer, though. Only pot shots and working on his range. It got his mind to focus on something that wasn’t the way his heart was shriveling or how the darkness was clawing at his mind. 

He didn’t see his mother in the sights. 

He didn’t see her superimposed over the infamous landmarks of Los Santos. 

He didn’t see her fucking anywhere. 

When it came to Ryan, well, there were layers to his darkness. One for every event. If he woke up sweating, he’d expect his mother to haunt him. If he couldn’t sleep, he’d fight the spirit of his brother. And if he was going ninety down a highway to the mountains, hills, the oceans (anywhere but in his apartment), he’d be fighting his father and the words he chanted at him so many times that they had become ingrained into his memory. Most times, he forgot what his face looked like. It was mostly his words that got to him, that dug in deep. 

_You took too many wrong turns, James. But you’ll make it. We’ll get you spun right._

But Ryan was still spinning like a top caught in a constant loop. He just wanted someone to make him stop running in circles. 

That was what the bad days were like. 

The first time it happened it hit Ryan like a freight chain and Ray wasn’t sure what to do about it. 

Sure, they hadn’t hung out much but their souls still tried to collide and catch each other in the fall out. They wanted a friendship so badly that they were blind to what that entailed. Giving yourself up. It was harder than what people believed. 

And Ray was too stunned to even move from the couch where he had passed out last night to do anything at first. 

There was a crash. That was always a definitive start to the days where you were drowning in black. Ray was all too used to the sound but not so used to it coming from Ryan. The man was usually calm and collected, sometimes a bit crazed but that was just his odd personality coming through. But this was chaos. 

He sat wide eyed as Ryan stumbled from his room like he was drunk. Except Ray knew better and he knew that the man didn’t drink a drop of liquor. They had a similar hatred of the taste. 

He reminded him of himself, of that time before where they met in the diner. It was black out kind of day and Ray scrambled to try and ease the monsoon. 

Standing up from the couch, he grabbed the throw off of the floor and covered his shoulders with it. Shaking off his nerves, he stepped over the mix matched cans of soda and energy drink littering the floor. Stopping at the entrance to the hallway, Ray stood as a barricade to Ryan’s escape. 

“Hey, man, take it easy.” Ray kept his voice soft like tranquil waters, an end to a storm. But Ryan couldn’t focus on him. Instead he leaned against the doorframe, panting. He slid once or twice down the wall before catching himself. Ray grabbed his arm the third time, hauling him up. “Fucking lean on me, dude.” It came out harsher than he wanted but Ryan’s body stirred under his touch. It was a good sign. Tugging sharply at Ryan’s arm, Ray sighed in relief when he moved just enough to loll his head against his shoulder. Ray grimaced as the older man’s sweat stuck to his clothes. 

“Ray.” It came out weak and garbled. Shaking his head, Ray dragged Ryan as far as he could across the apartment. He managed to get them to the living room, dumping the older male on to the couch. Ray’s arms ached as he watched Ryan roll around on the couch before settling. The older male was quick to fall back into a pitiful excuse for sleep. It was like he was lost in a nightmare and had slept walked his way out his bedroom.

Either way, it was worrisome. Frowning, Ray sat in Ryan’s chair and grabbed his DS from the side table. Turning it own, he lowered the brightness and began a game of Pokemon. His mind wasn’t ready for Tetris and he knew that it was going to be a long night of watching Ryan and making sure he didn’t fall through the floor. 

He hadn’t seen Ryan shaken up like that. He was usually calm and collected. But he guessed that it was a dark kind of day. 

Ray just hoped that the morning would be better and that Ryan didn’t shy away from embarrassment. It was high time that they stopped fooling around and come face to face with reality.

But that didn’t mean that either of them were ready.

***

“Have you lived here all your life?”

They were on the roof, legs swinging off the edge. Mask to the side. Sniper rifle propped up on the lip of the roof. Sitting side by side with their eyes on the setting sun, things took an interesting turn. 

Hooking his finger in a loose thread sticking out of his jeans, Ray frowned. “Yeah, all my life.” He laughed but it came out bitter. His laugh was usually choppy and pretty shitty but the bitterness made it sting. “I don’t remember much, honestly.”

Ryan shrugged as if he didn’t hear the odd sparks of pain in Ray’s voice, as if he didn’t hear the strain and the creak of old memories bursting to the surface. “Neither do I. All I know is I had a mother, a father, a brother.” He wanted to add that he didn’t know what happened to them but he knew all too well. He had been there to witness it all despite how much he wished he could scrub his brain clear.

“I had a mother and a father too,” Ray added. And it was nice, being able to reveal that without feeling obligated to go into depth. With Ryan, it felt like he had years to say as little or as much as he could and the older male would never force him (unless it began to rot him from the inside - like how Michael was slowly crumbling in front of him). 

“Were they nice?” Ryan’s eyes got all squinty as he focused on a memory of his own. “Mine were for sure, like a fucking cure.”

Ray couldn’t help but to laugh just a bit at Ryan’s oddities. It was something that Ray had to get used to because Ryan certainly didn’t talk like the rest of the shitty people in Los Santos. 

He was beyond smart, said words that Ray wished he had a dictionary nearby for. But he tumbled over his words and it was fucking amusing as all hell to watch him stumble and stutter until he just gave up and started swearing all over the place. That was another thing too. Ryan loved to swear. He probably enjoyed the force of the words. Like an angry teenager screaming at their bedroom walls. And, lastly, Ryan loved to rhyme words together. It was endearing, a term that Ray had recently heard of but had only just now understood its meaning (especially when it came to Ryan). 

“My momma was really nice. Father not so much,” Ray finally answered. Ryan chanced a glance at the younger male. His squinty gaze turned sour and his demeanor switched. If Ray didn’t know better, he’d say that Ryan would have made a better actor than a killer. But he guessed that the two went hand in hand. 

“Ray.” 

And he really didn’t like how Ryan carved his name sometimes. He knew just when to add that accent that still made him stumble sometimes. He knew just how much to add to get him talking. 

Ryan made him feel like a victim sometimes and he always wondered what weapon the older male would use on him. He hoped his death was swift because this shit wasn’t getting any easier. But he wasn’t gonna label (he wasn’t gonna question what in the fuck he was doing with a serial killer, on a roof, pondering what it would feel like to be closer and wondering what the consequences of a one night stand are). 

“Okay so my dad was a fucking asshole, right? But my momma was good. That’s all I needed.” Ray wanted to ask how many times he was gonna say that because damn it wasn’t sinking in. 

And Ryan had sniffed out the lie. It was rotten in the air. But he stepped back and took a turn with the conversation away from memories and childhood and rockets and flames and bullets and grenades. 

“Do you think I could shoot that sign off?”

And Ray’s grin returned like something fierce. 

“I bet you twenty bucks.”

But how much were they gonna have to bet to reveal shit that they shoved deep down? 

////

After that, things were red.

Ryan was swirling a rose in his hands when Ray entered his apartment. His eyes seemed to gleam as he took in the vibrant presence of the rose.

“Dude, how’d you know I loved roses?”

Ryan actually didn’t but it was a lucky guess. It would also be the perfect opportunity to mend things after the black days, after they had seen each other at one of their many low levels. 

And it was way too telling when Ray handed him a can of diet coke and a cookie. Ryan chuckled as he handed the boy the rose. They had orchestrated a peace offering together without even knowing about the other’s intentions. He’d say this was the time where he knew Ray was a keeper but damn, he had known for a long while before this.

“Well, this is a bit awkward,” Ray commented as he spun the rose around in his hands. His fingers were delicate with the silky petals, only touching them when he felt that he was allowed. His smile was sewn with Egyptian cotton as he tucked the rose into his hoodie pocket, the flower petals sticking out. He made sure not to crush them as he walked over to where Ryan was sitting on the couch. Before he could sit though, Ryan held his hand up.

“Wanna go for a drive?” 

It was a meaty suggestion. 

But Ray had been waiting for it.

Nodding enthusiastically, he bounced on his heels as he headed for the front door. Ryan cracked the top of the can, sipping at the bubbles that fizzed to the top. His smile was strong even over the lip of the can as he took in the image of a buzzing and happy Ray.

It was a white day for the both of them.

But damn, did he look better in red.

His cheeks bloomed in pink, white mixed with red, as he grabbed his leather jacket from the back of his chair and slung it over his arms. Shoving the cookie into his mouth, he hummed when chocolate melted on his tongue. Ray had guessed that he liked what everybody did and he was right to assume. But Ray was special. And Ryan didn’t want anyone liking him. 

Chewing on the cookie, he fished out his keys and followed Ray out of the apartment. He paused there, though, soaking in the moment as Ray thrummed with energy beside him. The younger male leaned against the wall next to him, wiggling around in excitement as his fingers continually caressed the reddest petals he had ever seen. 

Raising an eyebrow, Ray said, “Dude, you gonna marry the door?”

And Ryan giggled, high pitched and sweet and lovely, as he finally shut the door and locked it. Walking down the hallway with Ray at his side, Ryan had never felt so invincible. 

***

They took Ryan’s car. Army green and black paint. Bulletproof windows and tires. The works. Ray had been hesitant in getting the car once he realized the interior was a dark gray leather but Ryan was coaxing him in with what he had playing softly in his car. Red Hot Chili Peppers and Billy Talent. It was like a rush of childhood memories as he finally allowed himself to slip inside the car. He had never shut a car door as quickly, wanting to seal in the sounds and the smells and the feeling of the leather against his skin. It was just as warm and heady as Ryan’s apartment. 

Ryan’s smile was happy and light as he switched gears and soared down the streets. They soon turned on the highway, going ninety. Ray sunk into the seats, closing his eyes in bliss as he took in the music and the sound of Ryan’s voice making small comments about the landscape around them. 

“Oh, there’s a clock shop I know. Care if we stop?”

Ray almost didn’t want the lullaby to end but he knew he had access to it whenever he wanted no matter how much he wanted to drink his fill now. Opening his eyes, he turned to Ryan. He was going to nod or say his agreement but Ryan’s blue eyes shocked him into silence. They were like clouds, floating in some sky above that Ray wasn’t sure where the older male was. 

He was stuck in wondering where Ryan was at the moment, if he had been just as caught in bliss as he was, that he was too blind to see that Ryan was staring at him with a fond look in his eyes, one that screamed his adoration. Ray was his world. He was getting lost in the addition. The sun. God, it was blinding. His smile nearly split his cheeks as he finally pulled the car to a stop outside the clock shop. 

“It’ll be boring but I need to stop by for a few minutes. Do you want to wait in the car?” 

“Nah, I wanna come in.” Ray had said it so fast that it almost made him dizzy. Hopping out of the car, he lingered by Ryan’s side as the entered the small and cozy shop.

Ray was hit with a sudden memory of his mother as the sound of ticking reverberated throughout his entire being. He lingered by the glass windows, watching cuckoo clocks spin and pop. There was one that had a handcrafted bird that seemed too familiar. 

“Holy shit.”

His words were quiet but it startled Ryan from his conversation with the man behind the counter. 

“Ray?”

When the younger male wasn’t able to respond, Ryan dug his hands into his pockets and walked over. The man behind the counter watched them with a keen eye, recognizing Ray immediately as the boy of the mother that he had grew up with. 

Ryan’s presence, for once, didn’t shake Ray from his reverie. His fingers continued to hover over the blue bird, carved with swirls and whimsical patterns all in white, black and gray. 

His eyes seemed to shake with held back tears as he remembered spending time with his mother in their garden as she whittled away on the bird. She had asked his opinion on colors and she had listened to his suggestions, liking them just as much as he did. Blue, gray, white and black. It was crazy how they haunted him. It was even more insane how much Ryan embodied them. 

Tilting his head to the side, Ray’s eyes scanned the breast of the bird, wondering if his mother had added anything else. She had refused for him to see the final product, saying it was a present. Ray was too foolish to ask where he would even see it again. 

He couldn’t help his gasp as he finally locked in on that final detail. A red rose, swirling beautifully with a color and vibrancy that he only thought possible in the garden of his childhood home and the rose tucked carefully in his hoodie pocket. 

Ryan’s left hand was burning a hole in his hoodie as he massaged the middle of Ray’s back. It grounded Ray enough to pull him back and into the moment. 

“Your mother was a wonderful woman.” The shop keeper’s voice was wavering and Ray knew that his would be as well if he could speak.

Stepping back from the clock, Ray spun quick on his heel and left the shop. Ryan bid his goodbyes with the shop keeper before following the younger male.

“I need to shoot something.”

And Ryan understood that feeling. He had been going stir crazy for what felt like weeks. He didn’t want to mention the guns and the mask to Ray, didn’t want to let him into that side. But they had been there with each other’s dark days. It was about high time that they take everything out.

“I know a building we can take pot shots at,” Ryan suggested. Ray was quick to agree as he slipped back inside the car. Ryan glanced over his shoulder at the shop before getting in the car and driving up the winding paths to the mountains and hills of Los Santos. 

Once they parked at an abandoned warehouse, Ryan popped the trunk and climbed out. “Pick any weapon,” he called as he grabbed a pistol and headed to the back of the building. He wasn’t feeling like handling anything powerful. He didn’t really trust himself with a heavier weapon. Ray felt the same as he too grabbed a pistol and shut the trunk. 

He already heard shots going off against the siding as he walked to the back. Sitting beside Ryan against a tree, he enjoyed the sound of the pistol against his ears. 

But he didn’t raise his to take a shot no matter how much he yearned to take his mind off of what had happened at the clock shop. Ray was oblivious a lot of the times but when it came to Ryan, he was in tuned into every tell and movement that gave the older male away and he could only imagine what shit the older male was carrying.

Ryan’s shots were getting less and less on point. His hands were a bit shaky and he refused to meet Ray’s gaze.

“Hey, Rye.”

But Ryan cut him off with a sharp ping of a bullet off the edge of the siding. 

“Both of our families are gone.” It took a deep breath for everything to rush out. “My mother shot. My father shot. My brother shot. I couldn’t save my mother and father from a killer. And I couldn’t stop my brother from joining the army.” His gaze was sharp, slicing across Ray’s heart as he struggled to keep everything together. But they were slipping, together in the end. “I couldn’t save any of them.”

And Ryan couldn’t say the rest because his breathing was coming out shaky and loud. Ray grabbed his pistol, kicking it to the side. He reached forward, his hands, smaller than his own, grabbing on his shoulders and pushing him down, down until he rested his head in the crook between shoulder and neck. 

His tears were hot against his skin and his breath came in short bursts against the collar of his t-shirt. But Ray din’t care about any of that. Curling his fingers in the back of Ryan’s t-shirt, he rocked them gently side to side as he tried to hold on and keep Ryan by his side.

“I couldn’t save any of them either.” Ray buried his face in Ryan’s golden hair, his lips trembling as he struggled to continue. “My momma was burned by rockets and my father tripped off somewhere. I don’t care where but…I couldn’t save either of them too.” And it was like the final nail in the coffin as he added, “You’re not alone, Ryan.”

And it was true.

And maybe that was why it was so hard to see each other on those dark days, to see how they were when they were falling. Because it was like looking in a mirror and they didn’t want to see their reflection. 

But it was staring them straight in the face now.

Could they move on together?

/////

They were in Ryan’s apartment. After the reveal in the mountains, Ray had barely left Ryan’s side and the older male could never be more grateful for having his sun by his side.

They were in the living room when Ryan decided to, once again, be truthful with himself and Ray.

Ray didn’t expect it so he was confused when Ryan set down the tattered book clutched tightly in his hands. The older male sighed, heavy and drawn out. Ray moved until he was sitting cross legged across from the older male. Ryan laughed to himself, quiet and hollow, before speaking. 

“You wanna hear a story, Ray?”

“I’m not some kid, Rye.” But then the younger male shrugged. “But why not. It better be good, though. I’m sacrificing a lot here.”

He knew something was up when Ryan didn’t retort. Running a hand through golden hair, Ryan bowed his head and launched into a tale that he had been told so many times since birth but just had recently realized its parallels to reality. 

“There’s two forces that run the world. There’s the angel of the sun and the angel of death. The angel of death does as he pleases. He takes the souls and he wishes them good luck on the other side. He takes vessels when he can and snacks on those who carry darkness like a long lost friend. The angel of sun, though, brings light. It is life in of itself.” Ryan paused, then, unsure how to let Ray know what was rattling in his mind without raising alarm or making him run. “It seems like they made their home in Los Santos.”

Ray chanced a glance to the floor to ceiling windows, his shoulders trembling as he remembered the darkness that seemed to interlace itself in its people like an epidemic.

“That makes sense.” Turning back to look at Ryan, he startled when the man’s blue eyes grew in color and strength like a rising storm. It wasn’t a black out day but it was gray.

“Yeah.”

That one word cut the conversation. Ryan smiled, small and shaky, as his knuckles grazed Ray’s cheek, grazing the soft skin and leaving shivers and heat in its wake.

Ryan wanted to say it, wanted to call them what they were, what they were born for but he held his tongue.

“Think it’s time for bed, Ray.”

And Ray, silent as ever, obeyed.

***

Geoff and Jack looked at the same streets, the same frigid, swirling darkness.

“You couldn’t help who they chose.” 

Jack’s words were too soft. The truth stung and burned. 

“Yeah, but I still fucking wish it was me.”

But Geoff couldn't change anything.

He could only watch.


	11. little bursts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present.
> 
> Ray and Ryan finally meet again after too many days apart.

Ryan laughed, a deep reverberating chuckle that Ray had been yearning for. 

Ever since that day in Ryan’s apartment, the two of them had drifted away. Ryan had found the crew and Ray never wanted to admit that he couldn’t join. He didn’t want Ryan breathing down his neck like Michael was. And the two of them couldn’t admit to each other what had been stirring inside of them for months. They had grown close but now everything was being ripped a part. Shameful. Pathetic. 

Ryan wasn’t dead but it sure as hell felt like it. The older male was distant from him and Ray blamed himself like he often did. Michael wasn’t speaking to him much anymore. He was hiding things. And Ray was sure it had to do with him. He was certain that he was the reason behind Michael’s slow but sure decent into despair. And with Ray…god, it wasn’t much different was it, now?

Ray’s face was taut with whirling emotions and Ryan was sick with shame. He was friends with that emotion but he wasn’t sure if friends sucked the life out of each other (he was sure he had done that to Ray). He had done this all wrong. 

“You threw one hell of a punch, kid,” Ryan teased. His knuckles graced Ray’s cheek, smiling when heat bloomed in its wake. Ray’s smile was so shaky, how it slid down his face. Ryan tried so hard to pick up the pieces but he wasn’t sure how. “My angel of the sun.”

Ryan felt like he was in near hysterics as he washed up to shore to chase something that he had since the beginning but was too fucking blind to catch it before it left him. He didn’t want Ray to ever leave him again. 

“Ryan.”

His name was a rush of air as Ray collapsed into him, arms around his neck and legs wound tight against his waist. He hugged the younger male to him, one hand on his lower back and the other carding burning trails through his hair. Ray was weeping and he didn’t like it. 

“It’s okay, Ray. It’s okay.” He repeated the words like a prayer and for Ray, it sung to him like a lullaby. Nodding his head, he only clung on to the older male harder.

“I know, I know.”

And they both did. 

They didn’t want to label it but it was burning inside their chests. 

“I want you to never leave again.” Ray was the first to admit it. Ryan easily caught on.

“I never want you to leave again either.” 

The words were searing hot and tender against his skin. Ray never liked flames but Ryan was a sun swallowing him hole. And he caught it. He fucking caught it and he’d never let it go.

“Let’s move to the couch.” It was a sweet suggestion and Ray liked the idea of Ryan finding a home here with him. He liked the idea of making his solemn and dark apartment become a light with the warmth that Ryan carried with him like it was ingrained into his very soul.

God, he fucking missed this. 

His limbs shook as he stood from the ground. Ryan grabbed them both ice packets, one for Ray’s knuckles and another for his jaw. They moved together, fingers interlaced, towards the couch. 

The two of them were quiet, letting their hearts get used to the lack of fear and the addition of another soul. It felt like they were being sewed back together. It wasn’t a white, black or gray day. It was an unnamed color and they quite liked how well they mixed. 

Ray’s smile was blinding as he pulled his knees to his chest, flipping his hood up and over to somehow shield the blush blooming on his cheeks. Ryan noticed anyway (he took in any little detail he could - none of them would be enough) as he hooked his arms around Ray’s knees, leaning back against the arm rest. He watched Ray delightedly, as if these normal moments counted the most. And they really did. Especially now with how distant they had been previously with the other.

Ray peeked outside of his hood, chancing a glance at Ryan and the dreamy look in his eyes. The sky could never compare. No ocean nor any other cheesy metaphor. Ryan was something else from his hair down to his toes. 

“Hey,” Ryan whispered. Ray rose a single eyebrow at him in question but then it was answered when Ryan leaned just far enough to meet him in the middle. Their bodies both knew where it was heading and their heart knew far before that. Lips pressed against the other’s, chapped against cracked, fitting right in between the spaces. Perfect. Ray wanted to gasp, to be surprised at the feeling that coursed through his body but his brain got stuck at the point of contact. 

Suddenly, fingers traced swirled patterns along his collarbone and then disappeared into the hood to tangle themselves in his hair. The hood fell with Ryan’s ministrations and Ray was just happy for the extra contact it gave him. Ryan. Always be touching Ryan. 

He couldn’t help it as both his hands rose to cradle Ryan’s strong jaw, being careful of the bruises that he had foolishly left on his skin. Hold him there. Never let go. But breathing didn’t come easy like this. Breaking a part, Ray’s eyes bugged out a bit as he tried to catch in as much air as he could. He needed to have those damn, sinful lips on his again. A chuckle broke his concentration and Ryan’s left hand gently pressed against his chest, right above his lungs, urging him to slow down. Take it easy. They had forever to do this. Smiling, Ray ducked his head. 

Ryan’s chuckle was like wind chimes in his ear as an ice pack pressed against his red and throbbing knuckles. Ray grabbed the other and held it against Ryan’s jaw. They looked ridiculous, sitting close with minuscule smiles on their face (huge in their glow and meaning) and holding ice packs to the other’s face like they were sharing a sip from the other’s wine glass or a piece of wedding cake. 

But they were perfect like this, flaws and darkness and sun and everything in between mixed together in a cocktail that was all theirs. 

But Ryan had to break it, had to end the moment because his phone was buzzing and Geoff was wondering he was. He let the ice pack go and took the one from Ray’s hands.

“I have to go.”

His words were solemn. Ray wanted to latch on to his bicep, curl his fingers around and squeeze hard enough for him to stutter and re-think everything. But he couldn’t stop Ryan. Ryan was a whirlwind all his own. How foolish would he be to try and contain that?

And besides, he had forever to spend with Ryan. 

Nodding his head, Ray smiled at him reassuringly. It was enough for Ryan to feel okay about his quick decision. It helped ease the nerves that were thrumming to life underneath his skin. There was a mission coming and it was like his body was preparing for battle. And, really, it was like a test, to see if he could mesh well with the others. He knew it’d be fine but his brain liked to lie. He hoped it wasn’t lying about Ray. 

Wrapping his arms around Ray’s middle, he pulled him forward until Ray melted against his chest. Skimming his lips across the boy’s cheek, he laughed, soft and breathy, when Ray’s fingers curled around his wrist and dug in. Ray was beautiful like this. Always will be. He didn’t understand how he could have ever drifted away from him. Fear was a wild thing.

Sighing, he reluctantly gave up the warmth and the sun, letting it dip behind the clouds. 

Rising from the couch, he made sure Ray was comfortable. Once he was, he kissed his nose and then his lips. Ray’s giggle was sweet against his lips. He kissed his smile again and again, loving the curl of his lips tilting upwards against his own. God, Ray was just too much for him.

“I’ll be back.”

And it was sealed like a promise. Ray believed it before he could even begin to think against it. 

A single hand brushed through his hair, pulling his hood up and over, before his masked savior was gone and Ray was left with silence. 

***

Geoff gathered them in the living room. Gavin was bouncing on his heels. Michael’s expression had hardened. Jack was smiling. Ryan was unsure. 

Geoff watched each of their expressions fall and rise, shy away and reappear. Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair and wondered again what he was doing here. But he had known for years how it was gonna start, how this was gonna end. It hurt to think of it. Grabbing his glass of whiskey off the coffee table, he slammed it back and let the glass topple to the ground. Jack was quick to catch it before it shattered. 

Seeing their leader like that was enough to shake everyone up. This was supposed to be fun but it was serious too. 

“Okay, so everyone know their jobs?” 

Everyone rattled off their jobs as if they were seared into their hearts. They were sinking into their place in the crew and the rush that was to come made them antsy. 

“Alright, everyone to the car, then.”

Geoff watched all of their expressions again and he was glad to see that everyone was relaxing a bit. 

Ryan’s plastic mask glinted in the light of the garage. Geoff watched the man make jokes and being teasing and weird with the other boys. He fit right in. 

But at what cost?

It was like looking death straight in the eye. 

And Geoff wasn’t sure he was prepared.

***

Ray didn’t like being left in the silence for very long. Video games usually became his lullaby and Ryan was a sweet addition to that. But video games weren’t cutting it. Nothing seemed appealing and all the achievements sounded drawn out, complicated and grindy. It didn’t suite his current tastes. 

So, he put his sniper rifle into its carrier and let it swing against his back as he left the apartment for the empty streets below. 

Ryan didn’t tell him the address of where they were hitting. But Ray had a good guess. There were many convenience stores in Los Santos but some were on the edge of being in a pretty abandoned area. Cops wouldn’t be able to get to them quick enough and there’d be less bystanders to worry about. 

So, he took that route towards the edge of the city. His legs were burning by the time he came to the street that he guessed they were on. The ache reminded him of the runs he took to clear his head and to get his father’s eyes off his back. He had fallen off the habit. But he needed to pick it up again. Squeezing at the flesh of his thighs through his jeans, he frowned. Yeah, definitely needed to pick it up again. 

Gathering his breath and his wits, he swung his sniper rifle around until he could pull it out. Dancing between the shadows, he climbed up a fire escape alongside an apartment building across from an all too quiet connivence store. The perfect hit. As he rolled on to the roof and took position with his sniper rifle trained on the store, he just hoped he was right. 

The street suddenly burst with noise. 

Ray looked down his scope, zooming in to see Michael working his magic on the cashier with Geoff swinging a gun around in warning. There weren’t any customers inside and there were no bystanders on the street. But there was movement from the building to the left of the store. 

Ray hunched lower, using the lip of the roof as a shitty point of cover. He thanked god that the boys had decided to do this at night or else he’d be easily found under the sun’s rays. 

A man was pacing outside of the building that appeared to be a furniture store. The man had his phone out, tapping on it and swiping through apps in what appeared to be boredom. But Ray saw the telltale signs of shifty eyes and even twitchier hands. His eyes kept looking from his phone to a point across from him. 

Ray followed his gaze with the sniper rifle and he nearly hollered when he saw a man dressed in black from head to toe. A red object peaked out from the sleeves of his jacket. Ray could only guess what it was. He didn’t have time to get a full answer before he was lining up his shot. 

But his hands faltered. A shot of light burst through him. The crack of the bullet resounded his ears before it hit the man’s knee, shattering the bone and throwing him on to the ground.

Ray didn’t understand why he didn’t go for the head shot. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it as he turned his eye to the man on the phone. He was stock still, frozen at the sudden pop of a bullet and the dead, wide eyes of his friend. 

Lining up his shot once more, Ray pulled the trigger and blasted the asshole straight in the heart. His blood splattered on the window of the furniture store as his body swung and spun before landing with a resounding thud on to the pavement below him. 

Scrambling to his feet, Ray clicked the safety back on before high tailing it from the roof. He didn’t need any of the crew seeing him. If they did, they’d drag him into the crew and Ray would just bring them down. 

Hopping down from the fire escape and on to the street, Ray used the shadows as cover as he ran from the scene. 

But he didn’t feel a familiar set of eyes watching him from the store window.


	12. inland soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is is after the mission. Ryan reflects about his place in the crew and Michael decides to be honest with Ray. He’s been harboring the truth for years and he can't’t take its poison anymore.

It was after the mission. 

Ryan was on his military green Pegassi Bati 801 (repurposed from a kid he shot in the head right between his bright green eyes - he thought the color was an appropriate homage), speeding down the streets in the dead of the night. Neon lights, illuminated skyscrapers and dilapidated buildings flashed past him in blurs. His mask was off, paint scrubbed away in the shower. He was wearing a black muscle tank and dark jeans, needing the feel of the frigid breeze marking his skin. 

The rest of the crew, his crew (if he even dared), was resting. He had spent enough time with them (barely a few weeks) to see them in their various places throughout their lavish two bedroom apartment. 

Geoff would be curled up on the left side of the couch, the side nearest the windows. Natural light. He’d be reading. Poetry. Short stories. Comic books. Graphic novels. Whatever fancied him in the moment. Whatever spoke to him that day. Peaceful. 

It’d be interrupted by Gavin and Michael wrestling on the floor. Pent up energy. Their bodies practically trembled with it. And when Michael’s fingernails turned to claws and Gavin started whimpering in real pain, Jack would break them up. 

Michael would disappear into the weight room on the bottom floor of their apartment building, maybe even take a drive to see friends. Gavin would turn to his slow motion camera and wander throughout the city looking for things that suited his fancy but always within reach of the apartment and with his cell phone charged and glued to his body. Geoff didn’t trust Gavin not to cause trouble and he’d always watch Gavin before he went anywhere. Careful. 

Then it would just be Jack and Geoff. Tinkering with words. Tinkering with objects to fix or novel things to create. It’d be their one moment of peace until the clock ticked down the hours long enough that they knew their boys would come home hungry. So, Geoff would rise form the couch and vanish into the kitchen. Jack would turn the television on, just background noise until Gavin and Michael came home to fill the silence. 

It wasn’t the first and it wouldn’t be the last time that Ryan wondered where he would fit into that equation. 

And when he dwelled on it just enough to craft a word, an image to describe an emotion (it was hard to pin down something that wasn’t quite universal and abstract - sometimes he wasn’t much of a right brain kind of guy), he came up with something nice and easy. 

It rolled off his mind like a whispered prayer. Curled just right. Sung just as sweet. 

He was a spring driven clock out of beat. 

Swerving, he sharply turned left, soaring past a beeping car (the woman was screaming at him but her voice was too hoarse so it didn’t linger long in his brain). He braked hard, skidding along the pavement and bumping on to the sidewalk. Once his bike was secure in the shadows, he left it in favor of the clock shop. 

It was a tiny shop a few roads before Mt. Chiliad. Just enough in the vacancy of Los Santos to not be visited often. Kind of shitty for business but the shopkeeper liked his privacy. The quiet of the mountains. The whir of the planes above. All a soothing background against the ticking of the various clocks. 

Ryan could get behind a guy who had that kind of aesthetic. Even though he breathed in the fumes of downtown like a druggie killing for a high, he always had his bike to escape on. To the ocean. To the mountains. Where darkness and light could meet without the hindrance of humans. 

When the bell chimed indicating his entrance, the shopkeeper grumbled from behind the counter. Slapping a hand down on the glass, he peeked his head out. 

“Ryan? It’s midnight.”

“And?” Ryan questioned as he loomed near the doorway. The older gentleman shook his head. Ryan was always a gentleman about things. 

“Fine, get in here before you let in any wandering animals. Or worse, humans.” 

They shared a quiet laugh, sincere in its honesty. 

“Yeah, sorry for the lateness, though. Had a job to do. Wanted to relax before I laid down for the night,” Ryan explained. 

The owner scratched a hand through his frazzled black hair and then down to his fuzzy jaw. Picking at the coarse hairs, he frowned. 

“Bit shaky aren’t you, Ryan?” 

A clock maker always had an eye for detail. Their ears were tuned in to every whisper. 

Scuffing his shoes against the knotted and worn hardwood floors, Ryan bowed his head. “What do you do when a spring clock is off the beat?”

“Well, lazy people put something underneath it to make it level. People who own clocks without knowing a damn just want the stupid thing to stop going tock-tick, tock-tick. They want to right it and jimmy their way through a problem without having to track down a shop like this. Who wants to drive out to Mt. Chiliad for a damn clock? So, instead, they put some wood under it to make it go again.” Pausing, the man cornered Ryan with a stare that could rival that of an angel’s. “But you and I know that you have to bend the verge.”

Ryan didn’t know what a goddamn ‘verge’ was. But he knew that the man knew what he was saying. He ran a damn shop on clocks for a reason. But that last part of his sentence and the way he tracked Ryan with his eyes and his ears as if he had a window to his soul and an ear pressed to his wavering heart made him seem like a god. 

Spinning on his heel, Ryan made his leave, silently. The man behind the counter licked his lips, nodded his head, counted to two before disappearing behind the counter. 

***

After the clock shop, Ryan drove up the hills around Mt. Chiliad and came to a direct halt at the abandoned warehouse on the top of a hill. Checking the surrounding area, he sighed in relief when there was no one in sight. Crumbling to the ground, he set his pistol on the dirt ground and stared at the city below him. 

He was a spring loaded clock off the beat and he was bending. 

Flexing his fingers, his jaw ticked before he grabbed his pistol. He wondered what would happen if he let off a shot against the building. Holding the pistol out in front of him, he clicked the safety off and teased the trigger guard. There was power in his fingertips.

It lit up red and white around him.

But it wasn’t power or fear superimposed into the form of human faces (ones very familiar to him) or figments of his imagination.

It was two literal, floating balls of red and white light. They were like vapor, mist. They shined against the dark background and flickered in the flashing lights from below. 

_Ray._

He dropped the pistol, almost kicking it and sending it off. 

The angel of death’s words were strong in his ear. His heart kicked up a notch and his mind began to race. The angel hadn’t spoken to him in days until this moment. How crazy would he be to say that it was meant to be?

Rising from the ground, he grabbed his pistol, put back the safety and shoved it into his jacket pocket. The balls of light followed him as he stepped around to the front of the building to where his bike was.

“These your friends?”

_Friends. I like that term._

Scoffing, Ryan started his bike and turned left back on to the street leading downhill into the city. The balls of light settled on the handlebars, leaning close to him. He almost wanted to rear back but he could feel the angel’s claws digging into the back of his jacket, keeping him in place.

“Yeah, it’s new to me too,” Ryan grumbled as he sped down the streets. At the rate that he was going, it didn’t take long to reach Ray’s apartment. He paused after he parked his bike, tilting his head back just a little. He almost wanted to see eyes like black holes boring into his own but he sighed in quiet relief when he saw nothing. Balls of floating light was enough for one day. 

Climbing off the bike, shivers racked up and down his spine as the balls of light pressed against him. The white one was on his back, fire mixing red hot with the bite from the angel’s claws. The red one latched on to his bicep, almost pulling him along. Their power was a strong surge of need (of protection). 

He practically ran to the elevator and then out of the elevator when the doors dinged open. His feet seemed to pound against the carpeted floor just as fast and hard as his heart. It was a beat he couldn’t shake. He could only listen and follow. 

Shaky hands grasped the door knob, frowning as it easily opened with a single push of his palm. The balls of light were thrumming with energy and nerves. A human quality. But the angel of death’s saturated aura was gone. Ryan didn’t want to know what that could entail. 

“Ray?” 

He called out as loudly as he could, boot covered feet slamming the door closed behind him. When he heard nothing, he ran down the hallway to the younger boy’s bedroom. Kicking the door open, he nearly back pedaled when he saw the boy’s huddled form in the center of the bed. He was stock still. 

And Ryan, like a million times before, was faced with his reality. 

But then the form shifted and something lifted inside Ryan. The balls of light flashed once, twice before vanishing into the air. 

Kneeling on to the bed, Ryan threw boundaries and whatever fuck else aside and grabbed at the blankets that were covering Ray.

“Ray, please.”

It was such a broken whisper (misplaced and wrongly said) that Ray pulled the blankets back and lifted his head.

His eyes were like the hardwood floors that he had just stepped on hours previously. They were knotted with ruts. They were worn from feet stepping on them without care. Their boards creaked at the added weight and they suffered under the cruel hands of time. 

Ray was worn. 

He was used to the kid smiling and making jokes and even when he fell silent, he still somehow glowed (or was that just to Ryan?). But in this moment, Ryan saw a cloudy moon that never set. 

A black day turned sour.

“What happened, kid?” 

He needed to know but Ray wasn’t speaking. There was no way the boy could. Resting his arms along his sides, he opened his body up for Ray to crawl into. And the boy did. 

He shifted an inch, pausing in case Ryan told him not to. When all Ryan did was nod and smile (sweet and lush - syrupy and thick - Ray could get stuck in it all day), he crawled further into his welcoming hold. Resting his head against Ryan’s chest, he pulled his knees to his chest and listened to the lull of his heartbeat.

Ryan wrapped strong arms around his shoulders, caging him in. A large hand laid across the back of his neck, kneading the tense muscle. Ryan grounded Ray in a few seconds flat. 

“Thank you.” 

The words burst with several meanings. Ryan’s head rushed trying to catch all of them.

“Always.”

The term was spoken deeply, both in tone and connotation. 

And what Ryan felt in that moment was a piece of wood being slot into place. Bent back and set right.

_Tic-tock, tic-tock._

***

And in the darkness of night, Ray murmured the truth that Michael had spat at him. 

***

They were in Geoff’s apartment. Living room. On the floor. They were lying on their backs, controllers on their bellies. The ceiling was their only source of entertainment. It seemed to be the only way they could talk sincerely. Not a single eye on the other. Just on the ceiling. Somehow, the white paint screamed innocence and purity. 

Wash the sins away.

Michael was blunt again.

But this time Ray was bludgeoned with the smack of his confession.

“Your mom died in an explosion, right?” Michael didn’t wait for a nod of confirmation. He already knew the answer. “I started that fire.” He tried to grasp at nonexistent straws. “It got out of hand and there were rockets and…I was fucking seventeen and I barely used rockets. And when I saw you again at nineteen, I couldn’t…you have to understand, Ray.” 

He was a fucking criminal. 

Yeah, he was a fucking accident. 

Ray didn’t want to believe it.

Michael couldn’t even say sorry before Ray was running from him. 

***

Michael was telling the same story too except he was recovering and he was speaking to a grave.

***

The first thing he did afterwards was look in the bathroom mirror. What he saw reflected there made him howl, fierce and broken. 

“Michael, what the fuck?!” 

Michael hoped that Ryan could somehow sew together what he had shredded. 

Geoff was two steps behind Michael’s fist as he swung it straight into the mirror. Shards of glass gutted the skin of his hands. Gashes gushing with crimson. He felt warm hands cradling his wrist. But no one was holding his left. It struggled to get the lighter out. But he managed to get his thumb to flick it. Pressing it against the crook of his arm, he sobbed when the fire licked at the cells. 

Everyone was screaming and he could even hear Gavin. 

Everyone should be afraid of him because he was a murderer. 

He was never Michael. 

Who was he again?

The son that his father labeled _criminal._

Voices and faces swam together as the lighter was swatted out of his gasp. Hands were fixing his hands, the seared skin of his arm. But he couldn’t feel anything. Just darkness. Ryan had mentioned an angel of death once but he knew that the devil was coming for him instead. He could almost feel the hounds tear at his skin before everything went dark.


	13. armed with death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the final moments. 
> 
> Neither of them are prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that this chapter is sub par but I needed to break this chapter and its sequel up. I did not want to reveal everything directly, rather letting you figure it out. But if you are confused, I will gladly help. 
> 
> **There will be a sequel**. So, don't worry too much.
> 
> **Dedication** : This fic and its final moments are dedicated to every person that liked it, shared it, bookmarked, subscribed and commented. All of you are absolutely lovely and beautiful people. You have inspired hope in my heart and you let me continue when I thought I wasn't able to. Stay gold and stay lovely, sweethearts <3.

Geoff had seen the angel of the sun rise from the depths of Ray’s soul. He had seen the angel of death cloud the blue from Ryan’s eyes. He had been witnessing it from afar but he could have never prepared himself for the fallout, the tragedy.

Jack was calling him. But he could only pick up the phone. He didn’t say a word as his heart picked up a beat. Gavin was safe. He had slipped back into being unemotional and caught in the turmoil but he was safe. He was at their hideout in the mountains with Jack at his side. Two down.

Ray was with Ryan. The two were close, puzzle pieces put together. Made for one another. He knew they’d be fine, that they could patch up everything as best as they could together. Another two down.

But Geoff didn’t know how to track down Michael. The boy had run from him before he could tape his fingers and put the pieces back together. He assumed the boy would come back to him.

But Michael was a runner. 

And he had done this once before.

Geoff didn’t know if his heart could take anymore of this. 

He had to get them all working together like a machine. But he didn’t know how they could move on from this. He wanted them to be a team, to get them happy and lovely again. 

But was it possible?

Could a mission mend it all? 

The final battle. Slamming his glass of bourbon on the countertop, he tried to hold the flood waters back. 

He’d have to try.

For the better of his crew, he’d have to try.

***

Ryan was with Ray, unable to sleep. He watched his boy, his sun dance inside a darkness that he knew all too well. And somewhere in his rushing thoughts, the angel of death whispered to him a somber truth that he never wanted to dwell on or believe. 

_Ryan, you know how this ends._

The statement rang clear as wind chimes but not as beautiful as a blue bird’s song.

The voice itself became warped. Its true colors shown. Ryan easily pinned it down. He had seen her name on the news and had heard her voice (singing, talking, laughing) during the tribute videos that they would play.

Her name was a treasure.

And Los Santos was her domain. 

The angel of death and the angel of the sun were her soldiers. 

She’d play them as she pleased and leave them drowning in red.


End file.
